A Dozen Roses
by Soaring Keys
Summary: Days of childish joy and belief in magic are left behind. More pressing matters arisen as the garden's happy trio ages. Lies are told, hearts are weeping and the intent to survive grows. The moor offers it's comfort, yet it's voice can not be heard. One is forced into war, the other succumbs to a forbidden desire and the last has never before felt so helpless and weak.
1. Why mun it be tha!

**Chapter 1 **

**_"Why mun it be tha!"_**

Dickon Sowerby has always been, and hopefully always will be, a gentle and loving boy who blossomed into a responsible and dashing young man. His heart bleeds for others. His loyalty has yet to be wavered and his love grew stronger by the day. A bigger heart could not be found in Yorkshire.

Though he may be rosy cheeked and funny looking, you just can't help but fall in love with him. He had the sort of face where at first glance you wouldn't notice but once you got to know him, once you see the things he could do with only his voice, he suddenly becomes the most handsome man a woman ever had seen.

The way he would speak to animals is both fantastic and thrilling. His gentle tone and touch makes you feel as though you could never guess and most certainly know just what to expect.

A boy like him, no a man such as Dickon could never in his be willing to kill another creature, be it man or animal.

That is why he was so devastated when he saw a soldier sitting upon a strong, harshly tamed horse, strolling up to his small cottage on the outskirts of the moor, _his_ beloved moor. His mother was out with his brothers and sisters, but he chose to stay and clean up around the house… now he regretted it more than anyone could ever imagine.

Dickon narrowed his eyes and gulped as he stepped out of the safety of the small cabin. He stood tall and strong, now that he was 18 he only expected them to come. They always did take the ones with less fortune to cast away after all.

The soldier jumped off his horse and took out a parchment; he overlooked it quickly and then turned towards Dickon. "You're Dickon Sowerby, I assume?" The soldier was a pure British man that much he could tell by the way of he stood and spoke.

"Aye, that'd be me." Dickon spoke in broad Yorkshire. He jerked his chin upward as he continued to stare the soldier down. "An' who're you?"

The soldier's eyes narrowed towards Dickon as he straightened his back. "I am Commander Lockwood and I am here to inform you that you are needed in the ranks." He said it as if he were challenging Dickon, but Dickon didn't flinch or cringe back. He stood tall with his head slightly tilted, something he had learnt from Colin.

"Eh! The 'anks, ya say? Well, when 'ill tha 'ave to leave?"

"Excuse me?" asked Commander Lockwood puzzled. He had never been in Yorkshire before now and was unaccustomed to their tongue, Dickon observed. A slight smile graced the his face as he thought of another person who had a similar reaction to his queer speech.

He had learnt proper English from Mary, but he loved his Yorkshire… and he loved it even more when Mary spoke it.

"I said; when will I've to leave? Do I've time to say mi goodbyes?" His English cracked a bit and sounded odd, but the soldier understood him and gave him a stern look.

"You will have to leave in three days. Say your farewells to your loved ones, but I will be back by sunset on the third day to pick you up." Commander Lockwood turned his back to Dickon and then heaved himself onto his horse. Without another word, he left.

Dickon stood and stared at the same place where Commander Lockwood had occupied minutes before. His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes started to sting with tears. It happened… It finally happened… and today of all days… on the day he was going to confess his love for Mary; The queerest lass he had ever met. The only lass he had ever, and will ever, fall in love with. It was all over now; when he leaves Colin will sweep Mary into his arms and marry her.

For the first time in a long time, a single tear raced down his cheek which was then followed by more. He silently cried over his loss and shivered in the cool air of the moor.

The moor…

He's other greatest love was always the moor! The beauty of the clear blue skies and barren landscapes; all the animals that lived and nestled inside it. The entire moor was his home and now he was leaving it… and there was no knowing rather or not he was coming back... alive.

It was getting darker and he knew his family would be home soon. He quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve and gulped down the large bile that stung his throat. He went inside and started packing.

* * *

Dickon held in his own tears as he held his sobbing mother. He had told her what had happened when the children fell asleep. And she was heartbroken.

"Mi lil' baby Dickon! Why mun it be tha! Why?" She sobbed into his chest.

"I donno, Mother…. I don' know" He whispered as a single tear fell from his eye as he gulped down bile after bile.

* * *

Mary's eyes fluttered open to the early morning sun. A small smile graced her features as she scanned her childhood room in Mizzelthwaite Manor. She was glad to be home again, no more lessons on how to be a proper lady and wife. She was finally home.

Mary was now 16 years old, soon 17. She had been sent to London for her education and manners when she was 13 years old. She had arrived just a little under a week ago and she couldn't have been happier. She was so glad to see Martha, Colin, Uncle Arty and, even, Ms. Medheart!

But most of all, she was absolutely thrilled to see Dickon. She was so surprised when she saw the boy she had grown to love. She had pictured a tall gangly little rosy-cheeked boy, but what she found was the complete opposite. He had grown into a man now, still rosy-cheeked, but she wouldn't have had him any other way.

Mary's smile grew wider and wider with every thought that passed through her mind. It was so good to be home.

She quickly tossed the sheets off her body and ran to her wardrobe. She pulled on her gardening dress and twisted her hair up in a clumsy knot on the crown of her head. A few stray golden locks tumbled down, but she didn't care as she yanked on her boots. She started heading towards the door, but was stopped by Martha, who stood at the doorway holding a breakfast tray.

"Now, where 're ye goin' on such a fine morning?" She asked, her Yorkshire accent hadn't changed a bit, and for that Mary was grateful.

"I couldn't wait any longer!" Mary exclaimed anxiously as she tried to weasel her way around Martha, but failed. Martha had grown quite fat, but she was still lovely. "I must go to the garden! I have been away for far too long!"

"Eh! Tha mus' eat first! Thy has gotten so thin since last tha saw you!" Martha chuckled as she went into the room, tugging along a sulking Mary while holding the tray with one hand. "C'mon now! Wouldn't want Ms. Medlock to be mad, now do ye?" She gave Mary a warm smile as she placed the tray on the table. It was then that Mary's stomach growled. Martha only smirked and pulled Mary towards the chair.

Mary sighed and sat down. She gulped her meal down without speaking, not caring if it was unlady-like or that it may have be rude. She had to see the garden, the moor!

She was itching to inhale the air outside and kiss her roses. She wanted to run without shoe or sock! She wanted to touch the trees, cuddle with the animals!

But most of all… she wanted to see Dickon's heart-warming smile…

* * *

**An/** Alright… This story is inspired by _TheDarkestShinobi'_s story: _One __Missing __Rose_, it's a NaruIno Romance/angst oneshot that I fell in love with! ^^ Her idea will come up in later chapters, but the plot is mine… But I do not own Mary nor do I own Dickon… sadly…

**_AN/ (edited)_ **Alright, so after re-read the whole thing I have made many adjustments and ammends. The plot is the same and I thankfully still remember where I wanted to take this story. I have changed my way of writing and hopefully you will all like it.

Review to fuel my plotbunnies! ~


	2. I'm by th' lilies!

**Chapter 2 **

**_"I'm by th' lilies!" _**

Dickon sighed as he paced around the garden.

The garden was perfect. The summer sun shone brightly in the cloudless skies, lighting up all of the flowers and tress within the garden's walls. Stones glittered and shimmered as they basked in the strong light. Red-breasted robins sung loud and clear as they flew gleefully around the trees, their song as beautiful as ever. A melody he has tried, but failed to capture with his flute.

This was the first time Dickon felt no joy being in the garden. His thoughts were heavily clouded with pictures of fallen soldiers, explosions from every angle as the screams and gunshots echoed in his ears.

Dickon shivered in disgust as he leaned on a tree and slid to the ground. Unfortunately, in front of him lay a bed of Indian Empress Lilies, the very ones he and Mary had planted and kept alive all those years ago. Dickon had to swallow down the tears that gathered in his throat as he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes. Never have Dickon's cheeks been so pale and eyes so defeated. If Mary were to see him now…

_Mary_

She should be here soon. Dickon had arrived along with the early morning sun and had been there ever since. He knew Mary would come any moment now. Her eyes would ignite with a sudden passion as her body would gracefully dance among the bed of flowers. The garden always did have such a strong effect on her. She would probably be followed by Collin, if he wasn't so busy with his studies.

_Collin_

That lucky chap. He doesn't need to worry about war or death. He would be able to grow up, travel and be educated… He'd also get to be married and have children to support. Dickon wasn't even sure he'd be coming home.

But what hurts the most was the thought that Collin could now marry Mary with no interruption. He would viciously steal Dickon's dream.

Yet, Dickon doesn't blame Collin for being born into luxury. How could he? With the childhood Collin had to suffer through, the thought of death looming over him day in and day out. The frightful wails that echoed through the halls of the manor. He had to endure all this while Dickon had been out in the moor, running and playing. Talking to any and all animals he found…

Was it now his turn? Was it his turn to have the thought of death over his head? To believe that his life may be cut short because of the uncontrollable?

"Dickon? Are you in here?" Mary's voice disturbed his train of thought and he instantly felt his heart pounding. He tried to pinch color into his cheeks and have a bright smile, but the color refused to return and the smile was strained… hopefully Mary wouldn't notice, though that hope was faint.

"I'm by th' lilies!" Dickon shouted in return, coughing a bit to clear his throat.

Mary came seconds later and she seemed a bit concerned. Her dress swirled around her in elegance, her hair pulled up in a mess of a knot and her face clean of makeup, one of the many things Dickon loved about her. Her skin was certainly not as yellow as it had been before, no, in fact she had gotten a bit of a tan from being out on the moor for so long, though it couldn't compare to Dickon's tanned and rough skin. Her hair was a beautiful hazel color that seemed to be as soft as silk, and her eyes… brilliant hazel, framed with thick lashes that seemed as if they kissed her cheeks whenever she blinked.

"Dickon!" She shouted as she hurried over to him. Her skirts swayed around her as she plopped herself down near him. She then placed a gentle, soft hand on his forehead. "Are you alright? You look pale and your eyes are swollen!"

"I'm alright, Miss Mary. Just caught a wee little cold." He said as he waved her off, secretly enjoying her warm hand on his forehead, but feeling the sting of the lie. He hated lying.

"Oh, but if you're sick then you shouldn't be outside! Come now, we must get you inside where it's warm." Mary said as she tried to drag him up by the elbow in worry. "Collin may have some cold medicine and I'll ask Martha to make you some soup."

Dickon chuckled and ruffled her hair. "No need to worry, Miss Mary. I'm fine, really! The garden will take the cold away! It is after all, Magic!" Dickon grinned as he stood up and hooked her arm with his. "Now, what shall we do? Is Master Collin joining us 'is fine evening?"

Mary sighed as she strolled with him through the garden. "Oh no, he's been so boring lately." She huffed. "If I wanted to know how the world came to I would've gone back to that blasted school." She scowled in a way that reminded Dickon of a young unhappy yellow Mary.

Dickon chuckled and led her to the swing. "Master Collin is just excited, is all. He will after all be a scientist and will one day 'ave inventions of his own." Dickon smiled broadly at her as he helped her onto the swing.

"I know that, Dickon! It's just that… I feel like I'm losing him. He is always busy with something! If it's not schoolwork it's research, if not research it's reading! And so and on and so on! It's a never ending chain of boredom." Mary grunted as she softly swung her legs to gain some height.

Dickon had gotten behind her and softly pushed her into the air, chuckling at her sour manner. "Can't really blame thy chap for 'aveing a hobby, can we?"

Mary sighed sourly knowing he was right about that. "I know… but I just wish he'd be more fun! I want to talk to him about everything and anything! Just like I talk to you. I'm glad I have you here, I bet you'll never leave me to travel around the world for scientific research!" She commented with a smile as she glanced over her shoulder, in time to see Dickon's broad smile fall and his composer go tense. "Dickon? What's wrong?"

Dickon gulped as he looked away from her penetrating gaze. "It's nothin', Miss Mary."

Mary stopped the swing with her heels. "It's certainly not nothing! Was it something I said?" She asked, worry evident in her voice as she too became rigid and tense.

"No… I mean… It's… complicated." He finished pathetically as his shoulders slumped over. He squeezed in next to her on the wide swing, still avoiding her accusing eyes.

Mary took his hand in hers and gently stroked the tensed muscles in his hand. "You can tell me anything, you know. I won't think badly about you." She whispered as she looked down at his hand in hers.

Dickon closed his eyes and enjoyed her gentle strokes. He didn't know what to say or how to act, but finally he decided to tell her the truth. "I've been called into the war." He whispered as he hung his head. Mary gasped and tears filled her eyes.

"Oh, Dickon! Why didn't you tell me?" She had to swallow down the tears that gathered in her throat. It was all too much to take.

"Tha would've worried 'bout me." Dickon couldn't get his voice to sound any louder than a measly whisper. He was a bit disappointed with himself for being pathetic in front of Mary.

Mary on the other hand was very annoyed and worried. Her emotions were battling one another, but she continued to stroke his hand. She looked up at him and placed her free hand on his cheek. "Of course I'm worried, Dickon. You're my best friend, my first best friend in fact. And I am devastated, but I believe in you. I believe that you will be coming back home…" She had to swallow down the growing bales, but she was helpless to the lone tear that fell. "I know you'll come back to me."

Dickon looked up and met Mary's eyes, his face was gaining color as he enjoyed the heat that radiated from her hand. After a little while he finally opened his mouth to speak.

"Mary?! It's lunch! Are you in here?!" Collins voice seemed to bounce around in Dickon's head, taunting him. Dickon was close to groaning in annoyance as Mary's hand dropped from his cheek and her other hand let go of his.

"I'll be right there! I'm on the swing with Dickon!" She shouted back, her scowl was firmly in place as she hurriedly wiped away her tears. They could hear Collin's rapid footfalls coming in their direction. "When are you leaving?" She asked quietly before Collin would arrive.

"Tomorrow afternoon." He replied just as Collin came busting through the trees. His cheeks were red and he was slightly breathless after running.

"'Ello, Master Collin! How are thee on this fine afternoon?" Dickon said in a cheery voice as he gently swung his legs to make the swing move.

"Good day, Dickon. I'm fine, thank you, but I am slightly hungry." Collin replied with a grin as he clutched his stomach. Dickon smiled in return.

"Aye, it is 'bout time for lunch, ey?" Dickon jumped off the swing and offered his hand to Mary. "Come now, Miss Mary. You mustn't miss lunch."

Mary gave him a small smile as she took his rough hand and slid gracefully off the swing. "Alright, but don't think this conversation is over, Dickon." She said sternly as she released his hand and made her way to Collin.

"Never thought t'was, Miss Mary!" Dickon called after her as he waved them off.

Collin threw him a confused glance as he hooked his arm through Mary's and left with a small wave. Dickon was just able to hear him ask, "What conversation?" and then heard Mary giggle as she ran off, Collin groaned as he ran after her.

Dickon waited until he was positive that they had left the garden to let out his own frustrated groan. He wanted to curse Collin for his timing and interruption!

He drew in a few deep breaths and sat down on the lonesome swing. He swung his legs once again to get the swing moving as he stared at the ground. What could he do to show Mary how much she means to him? That she will be the one he's fighting to come home to?

Slowly he lifted his head and caught sight of the beautifully blooming roses. A small smile crept on his face as he stared at the precious petals on the hundreds of stems that lined the walls of the entire garden. So beautiful, so full of magic… just like Mary.

Dickon's eyes widened as he, once again, jumped off the swing and approached the bushes. A plan forming in his mind as a broad grin took its place across his face.

* * *

"Oh, c'mon Mary! Tell me, please?" Collin begged as he batted his thick lashes and widened his already big grey eyes, his mouth was slightly pouted as he started to beg.

"No, Collin! The conversation I had with Dickon is strictly private." Mary said as she took a sip of her tea.

They were having lunch in one of the public gardens, it was nothing like _their_ own precious garden, but it was quiet relaxing. Flowers didn't grow as wild as it did in her garden, here they grew in rows and were kept neat and polished, nothing magical at all.

"I thought we didn't hide secrets from each other." Collin scowled as he left the puppy-dog act and took his true act of the spoiled child. "but, I see that _Dickon_ means more to you than I do." His eyes narrowed drastically at her.

Mary had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Her patience with him was growing thin as she too took on a scowl. "It's not a secret, it's just not my place to tell." She said through gritted teeth. She has become much more patient during the years, but sometimes that patience can easily fly away, especially when it came to Collin. It always seemed as though he just tried to get on her nerves.

"Oh, I see, so Dickon's the one with the secret. Maybe I should go over to him and dema-"

"You would do no such thing!" Mary snarled at him as she stood up. "I will not tolerate you acting spoiled. I merely said it was not my place to tell you. It's certainly not my fault that you don't have any time to be with us in the garden, otherwise you would have known." Mary scowled, the scowl that she was famous for back in the manor. The same scowl she wore when she was a child.

"I am not being spoiled! I just want to know what's going on." He said as he too used his own famous trait; his harmful glare.

"I'm leaving now. I do not want to see you until breakfast tomorrow, I'll have dinner in my room and I will ignore you if you were to talk to me." Mary said as she crossed her arms, grinded her teeth and turned around.

Collin had had enough as he stood up. "Turn around and look at me, Mary! I will not be ignored." Collin demanded as he glared at her back.

Mary straightened her back and walked away with her nose in the air. She could hear Collin's shouts, but she was as stubborn as a mule and when she said she was going to ignore him, then she was going to bloody ignore him!

* * *

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing...**_


	3. The fairest of them all

**Chapter 3**

**_"The fairest of them all." _**

Mrs Sowerby refused to let go of Dickon as she clung to him with all her might, heart-wrenching sobs erupted from her plumped figure. Commander Lockwood stood impatiently by the carriage, glancing down at his clock constantly. By simple observation Dickon knew that this man had not come from an affectionate family and so finds these sort of heartbreaking goodbyes and mere annoyances, this angered Dickon slightly.

"Mother, I 'ave to go." Dickon urged as he tried to pry his mother's arms off him. He looked up, but instantly regretted it once he saw the sad, mournful faces of his brothers and sisters. His vision blurred with tears as he looked away.

"Dickon, tha mun not forget to remember us! Mun not forget!" His mother sobbed as she was slowly pulled away by his younger sister Elizabeth. Her eyes were swollen and she sniffed loudly. The children's unstoppable cries and sobs only brought on more fuel to her own sorrow.

"Never, Mother, never. I love thy." Dickon whispered as he turned his back to them and marched towards the carriage. He didn't look back as walked, didn't look back as he yanked open the door, didn't look back as he settled inside the carriage.

But once the carriage started moving. He did.

And he really wished he hadn't.

Fore there stood his entire family, excluding Martha who was there the night before but had to leave to the manor, crying and sobbing. The younger ones had snot running from their noses and the older covered their eyes, as If it was all just a dream and they'd wake up if they don't watch the carriage roll away.

"That's one big family you've got there." Commander Lockwood commented as he sipped his tea. He was, most likely, surprised by the numbers of children that fit in such a small cottage, but really couldn't care less. "Seems like they'll miss you when you're gone."

Lockwood wasn't a sensitive man, so he didn't realize that his words were twisting the knife that hade been implanted in Dickon's chest since the day he was told he was joining the army forces.

"Aye." Was all Dickon could say, his throat was clogged with tears he stubbornly choked down. This made his voice crackle.

Lockwood smirked as he put down his tea cup and leaned back. "I suppose it is a shame. At least you didn't have a lover. Hmm? That would've been very hard to handle. A big family and a lover to say farewell to? I'd feel bad for that sad chap." Lockwood chuckled and made himself comfortable for the long trip ahead of him.

As for Dickon, he was tempted to hurl himself out of the carriage and run back home. Of course, Lockwood couldn't possibly know about Dickon's secret love for Mary. But his comment snapped the knife to allow his blood to poor from the wound.

So Dickon chose to remain silent, mostly because he didn't trust his voice or will power. Lockwood was older with more experience, challenging him would be a suicide mission… but Dickon couldn't say he wasn't tempted to take on that mission…

Dickon looked out the window and watched as his beloved moor darkened with a storm. He saw young animals scurry to take cover and the bushes and scrubs swayed violently with the wind. Dickon felt the urge to run outside just to feel that same wind, but he was confined within the carriage that would lead him to his faith…

A single tear squeezed its way from his eyes and rolled down his cheek. When it dropped on the windowsill the storms released its rains with fury and a spark of lightning shot across the dark, angry sky.

* * *

Martha jumped, startled, at the loud thunder and looked out the window. She had been depressed all day long, but now she knew that Dickon had left.

Because the moor was mourning their lost.

With a shaky sigh, Martha stood up from her position by the potato barrel. She had been peeling potatoes for 2 hours and she felt stiff.

As she stretched her sore limbs she caught sight of the roses in her coat. She sniffed and picked them up. They were all beautiful and young; they'd last for quite some time with the right care.

She smiled fondly at the rose petals and delicately traced them with her finger. Dickon wanted her to give these to Mary, but she'd been too busy with her chores… perhaps she could go find the Mistress and hand them over to her…

Martha nodded in determination and carried them with great care down the maze-like halls towards the ever familiar room that belonged to Mary Lennox. It's around supper time now and it was storming like crazy outside. So that meant Mary was in the library having supper with her cousin and uncle.

Martha pushed the heavy doors open one-handed and made her way into Mary's courters. She approached the bed and glanced around the huge room. When she was pleased to see no one other than herself there; she quickly placed the bundle of roses on the bed, lovingly, and made sure that the printed note was on top and visible.

She smiled, left the room and scurried down the hall, ducking behind the corner just as Mary rounded the one before that. Her back slightly hunched, as though a large weight has been place on her shoulders and her eyes tired.

* * *

Her uncle noticed that and buzzed around her throughout supper. She told him she was fine, just a bit tired, but he didn't believe that and only increased his investigation.

Colin, on the other-hand, was sulking all day long and barely spoke two words to her. He was still angry at her for not telling him what he wanted to know. She understood that Dickon was his friend too, but she felt special that he only told her and she knew Dickon didn't want to tell Colin. She thought it was because Colin wouldn't understand, but she did. She did survive the sickness and was shipped to another country, how could she not understand?

She shook her head and lightly slapped her cheeks, in an attempt to slap some life into her. It didn't work. Her eyes mourned along with the storm. Nothing would've cheered her up. Well, that was until she stumbled into her room.

It was a pleasant surprise, that's for sure!

Mary gasped as she sprinted to her bed and picked up the roses in delight. The note fell off them and slowly swayed down and landed on the bed, Mary didn't notice. She pressed the flowers against her face and inhaled their sweet smells. She wondered who could've sent them!

"Oh, if only there was a note!" She shrieked as she placed the flowers down, on top of Dickon's note, and ran out of her room in search of a vase.

But when she yanked her door open she came face-to-face with Colin, who had his fist raised to knock. Mary was startled and stepped back a few steps while Colin raised an eyebrow and used his fist hand to cough, trying to smooth it over.

"Colin? What are you doing here? Is there something you wanted?" Mary had breathed out; in her surprise and glee she became quite breathless.

"Um, yes… I wanted to… apologize for my behavior today and yesterday. I know I've been acting like a spoiled little nitwit and I feel awfully bad about the way I treated you. Could you find it in your heart to forgive me?" He stared down at her with his large grey and sad eyes, his lips slightly jutted out in a pout and his hands were clasped together in front of him.

Mary smirked and leaned back on her right foot, rested her left hand on her hip and used her other to gently stroked her chin in thought. "Oh, I'll have to think about that."

"Come on, Mary! Don't make me go down on my knees and ruin my trousers!" Colin said in a joking manner as he did exaggerated hand waves.

Mary laughed and shook her head. "Can't have that, now can we!" She said.

Colin smiled, ran at her and grabbed her by the waist and spun her in the air. Mary laughed and giggled and once she was placed on the floor she slapped his arm.

"Don't you ever demand something so outrageous again! Dickon and I only talked about a few problem that don't concern you, there's no reason for you to know." Mary said and stuck her nose up in the air.

"I know… It's just that I sometimes feel... left out."

Mary smiled sadly and hugged her cousin. "You're not left out. If you didn't have that nose of yours buried in a foolish book you could be enjoying time outdoors with Dickon and I."

Colin grunted, but laughed anyways. "Just you wait, someday you'll come down with a terrible sickness and I'd be there tending to you with the help of my 'foolish book'."

Mary shook her head and waved one finger in front of her. "Ah, Ah, Ah. I don't get sick that easily. I was, after all, the only survivor of the sickness that struck my home in India."

Colin rolled his eyes. "Of course, how can I forget?"

Mary stuck her tongue out at him, but her eye was then drawn to the flowers that still lay on her bed. "Colin, I found a bouquet of roses on my bed and I was wondering… was it you who sent them? There was no note and I'm assuming it was you…" She turned back to him with hopeful eyes. A part of her had wished that it was Dickon who sent the bouquet, but how can he? _He's probably halfway to London by now…_

Colin was, at first, surprised, but then a thought struck him and a devilish smile crept across his face. "Of course I did! I sent them to show my guilt." He said with pride.

Mary squealed then threw her arms around him in a great hug. "Oh, Colin. You were ever so thoughtful! You picked them from the garden, didn't you?"

Colin nodded in glee as he returned the hug. "Yes, yes I did. The flowers were so beautiful and they reminded me of you." He pulled back and then pressed her nose with his forefinger in a playful manner. "The fairest of them all."

Mary blushed and pulled away from him completely. "Oh, stop it. I am definitely not the fairest."

Colin shook his head adoringly and stepped forward grabbing her by the waist and pulling her against him. "I'd beg to differ." He said in the most seductive voice he could've mustered.

This caused Mary's blush to deepen as she pulled away from his grasp. "Stop it, Colin!" She shrieked, feeling quiet uncomfortable.

Colin sighed when she turned away and straightened out her skirts. "Alright then…"

Mary regained her breathing and turned back to him with a small smile. "Alright then." She repeated and lifted her skirt with her left hand and held out her right arm. "Shall we go look for a vase? I wouldn't want your roses to die."

Colin nodded and accepted her arm. He led her out of the room and into the hall.

* * *

_**Disclaimer: I still own nada**_


	4. Aye, Mary That I do…

**Chapter 4**

**_"Aye, Mary. That I do…" _**

Mary was getting ready for bed when she saw it...

She had been admiring her beautiful roses and gently kissing the petals.

She had been thinking of how kind Colin had turned out; compared to the horrid, sickly child he was before. Though he did have his moments of pure selfishness and tantrums, he was kinder, sweeter, more gentle. She noticed how he no longer barked out orders to his staff instead he asked them kindly, even adding a 'please' and 'thank you'.

Just as these thoughts went through her mind, she turned around and saw the piece of parchment sticking out from beneath the heavy layers of blankets of her bed.

Her left eyebrow shot upward as she picked the parchment up and saw that it was a sheet of paper folded neatly in half. When she turned it over and she saw her own name printed broadly on the crisp parchment.

"That's strange; Colin writes, he hates to print… The only boy I know who uses print is Dickon, but he's already left." Her features grew mournful as she slowly peeled the parchment opened.

What she saw printed inside had made her heart leap up to her throat and her blood boil with absolute rage.

Colin had lied to her about the roses…

As her eyes swept across the page, her rage began to ebb away until only sorrow and regret was left. Her knees trembled before they could no longer bear her weight and crumbled, slamming against the hardwooden floor, brusing painfully. Yet, Mary did not notice. Her fingers clutched the parchment tightly, her knuckles turning white from the force as her body shook with sobs.

_Dear Miss Mary,_

_I write this note because I am a coward. I cannot tell you this in person because my throat clogs up as soon as you glance my way with those beautiful eyes of yours and my palms go sweaty as soon as you say my name. And so I tell you this by note:_

_I love you._

_I love the way you smile, the way you laugh. I envy the roses you kiss and I envy Colin, I envy him not for his wealth, but because he could be there for you wherever you may be and give you the things I only wish I could. I envy the garden you love; I envy the animals you hug. You, my sweet rose, mean more to me than the beautiful moor itself._

_I Wish you understood that it was you who brought my beloved moor to life. As a boy I would run and jump and laugh in the moor, but as I grew older I realized that I felt so lonely. My brothers and sisters were never one to be out as long as I and that left the animals as my only companion, but I wanted more than the animals…_

_But then you came into my life and showed me the true meaning of friendship. Do you know that I still remember the first time we met as though it was only yesterday? I remember every detail and even then I saw you beautiful, despite your scowl and fiery look. I remember your glee from getting those seeds and tools. You listened so intently at the instructions I gave you, making notes in the precious little head of yours._

_It was then I knew that you were the only one for me… Well, back then I thought you were the perfect best friend for me, but as our time together grew on, I realized that you were truly the only person who could make my heart soar._

_I may only be a commoner and my love for you is highly forbidden, but I don't care. I never did as a child and I never will as an adult. I know that it's proper for you to marry Colin, but would you be happy? You told me yourself that he was a never ending chain of boredom… But if you love him, I would not interfere. You deserve happiness._

_I wish you the best Miss. Mary._

_So that's why I send a 12 roses,_

_When the last one dies, _

_My love for you has burned out._

_Take care of them, Miss. Mary… They hold my heart._

_Love, Dickon Sowerby_

The regret, the horrid regret, twisted and churned in her heart as her mind suddenly thought back to all those wonderful, magical times she had spent in Dickon's presence.

She should have told him then and there about how much she had loved him. She should have told him about how much she she treasured and cherished all those memories and that they were what helped her finish her schooling quickly. She should've just old him about everything she held in her heart.

But she hadn't and now she couldn't.

She glanced around the large room and laughed bitterly as she thought of what he had written. _He envied Colin because he could give me what he couldn't?_

She got up to approach the window, her knees aching from the harsh empact of falling. She flicked up the latch of the window and forced it open, ignoring the freezing air and unforgiving rain from the vicious storm outside.

"You are a fool, Dickon!" She shouted, outraged by his thoughts that had been printed boldly on the parchment she still held. "I don't want all this! I've never cared for wealth! All I need is my garden and you!" She screamed, her tears mingling with the rain as she leaned out the window.

"You stupid, stupid, unbelievably good man!" She sobbed, her voice cracking from the force. The thunder grew louder and the lightning frightingly shot through the sky stricking the ground with fury. "I want nothing but you!"

Her body slid down from her position by the window, her strength leaving her as she sobbed, mumbling angrily to herself.

But after some time her broken heart was filled with a furious rage as another man popped into her foggy mind.

Colin had lied to her and she had fallen for it like a fool. She actually thought Colin had changed! But now she knows he's a lying little ferret and needs to be thought a lesson… He will pay for claiming Dickon's roses as his own gift to her.

_Oh, he will pay… sooner or later…_

* * *

Colin woke up early the next morning with a proud grin on his face.

He didn't have the slightest idea of who it was who had sent those roses, but he was forever grateful to that person for not sending a note with those blasted roses.

He knew he should feel some sort of remorse for his actions, but at the moment he could only feel outmost joy! He awas one step closer towards stealing her heart and then outing her into wedlock where she would be his forever, just like they promised one another when they were children.

Mary would love him sooner or later and if the unknown person continues sending roses he will only gain more and more praises.

Life couldn't have gotten better for Colin at that very moment...

* * *

That morning Mary refused to get out of bed. She lay under her covers with heavy purple bags under her eyes and her hair tousled and damp. Her cheeks were blotchy after a full nights cry and sitting on the window, listening to the storms roar, as well as swollen. She had hidden the note under her covers. But kept it held close to her, just above her heart.

Martha came in with her breakfast and was immediately startled over what she saw. She was so used to seeing Mary up and about by this time that it was startling to see her look so horrible.

She had a feeling she knew why…

"Why, Miss Mary! Look at tha! Have thy gotten sick? I do believe this is the firs' time I've ever seen tha look so sick."

Mary lifted her head and looked at Martha with tired, sleepless eyes. "I think so…"

Martha tsked and set the tray down on Mary's bedside table. She leaned over the large bed and placed a hand on Mary's forehead. As soon as Martha's cold hand met Mary's skin she drew it back.

"Oh, dear lord! You're burnin' up a high fever, Miss Mary. You must 'tay in bed for th' day." Martha ran out of the room, leaving a very confused Mary behind. Mary propped herself up using her elbows for leverage and stared at the door with a question in her eyes.

She soon came back with a bucket of water and a few cloths slung over her arm. She sat the bucket next to the bed and Mary saw ice cubes floating within the bucket's contents. Martha gave her no explanation. She dipped one of the cloths into the bucket, pulled it out and squeezed the water out of it.

When Martha was done with that she spun around and pushed Mary onto her back. Too weak to protest, Mary allowed it. Martha was then quick to lay the towel on top of Mary's forehead, which made Mary wince but sigh in relief.

The freezing cloth cooled her fever and she felt so much better.

Mary closed her eyes and enjoyed the soothing powers of the cloth.

"How's tha feelin' now?" Martha asked as she held a new dampened cloth in her hand and began stroking Mary's blotched cheeks with it.

"Much better. Thank you, Martha. What would I have done without you?" Mary opened one eye and gave Martha a small smile.

Martha blushed and smiled widely back. "Eh! t'was nothin', Miss. I'm merely doin' mi job! You shoulda seen lil Elizabeth when she was sick! The lil lass was as sick as a dog! Always retching up everything we could stuff down her throat."

Mary shook her head and re-closed her eye. Relaxing under Martha's gentle touch with the cool rag. "You are much more than a maid to me, Martha. I hope you know that."

Martha smiled fondly down at the girl. It made her heart swell at hearing Mary tell her those things.

Mary was a beautiful girl and Martha had been there to see her beauty bloom. Mary was a sister to her now. Hopefully Dickon would man up and claim her as his own soon.

"Aye, Mary. That I do…"

* * *

_**Disclaimer: Oh, the story is up for sale?! I gotta place a bid!... Wait... It was withdrawn... Dammit all I still own nothing!**_


	5. Oh, how I miss thy, Dickon

**Chapter 5**

**"Oh, how I miss thy, Dickon"**

Mary sighed deeply as she lovingly - and outrageously gently - stroked the rose petals of the beautifully blooming roses. Dickon had printed that he sent a dozen roses and yet she could only count eleven. Where was that last rose? Had he hidden it somewhere for her to look or did it lay within the blanket of a million roses in the garden?

It's been 3 days since she discovered the letter and fell ill. She was much better the next day which was odd considering she nearly burned a hole in the cloths that Martha placed on her forehead. But she survived and was at perfect health.

Every day she had taken care of the roses with her undivided attention and care. Colin had, yet, to know that she knew those roses weren't from him, she has been giving him the cold shoulder as of late. She refused to acknowledge him since her discovery, knowing that she would erupt in an angry tantrum as soon as he tries to explain himself.

He has no excuse for taking credit in Dickon's good deed.

Mary sighed deeply again and leaned over to touch her lips against the rose's petal, she placed no pressure onto the delicate rose in fear that it's petal would fall and then start to welt, Oh how she dreaded the day that happens.

Those roses must remain livid with life for as long as possible!

Mary huffed and picked up the beautiful vase that held her beloved rose. She marched out of her room, down the winding staircase and out the wide arch doors, straight towards the garden.

Once inside the security of her beloved and magical garden, she found a nice patch of grass where the evening sun shun its light and placed the vase in the middle of it.

Mary adored the way the roses seemed to become more alive as it soaked up the sun's light and bathed in its brilliance. It was simply breath-taking as the petals shimmered and glimmered in the strong sun.

"Don't ever die." Mary whispered as she knelt down next to the vase. She was careful not to be in the way of its sun, but didn't bother to hike up her skirts as to not let them get ruined with mud and dirt, it was never a bother to Mary anyway.

She hated those long puffy skirts and tight corsets, but as Ms. Medlock says: _A lady must know her place and dress the part! _

Mary giggled lightly and cocked her head to the side as she stared down at her roses. "Oh, how I wish you were here Dickon… It's boring you know… Colin's been such a git and I can't stand him anymore!" She let out a small laugh. "If you were here you'd probably say something like. 'Eh! Miss Mary, don' blame poor Master Colin for studyin' ta be a scentis'! Its tha lad's dream! And didn't tha always say to follow ya dreams?!'"

Mary's imitation of Dickon's voice brought a small playful smile on her face. Speaking to the roses may have looked silly, but as Mary spoke she realized that it was like speaking to Dickon. The flowers always listened intently to what she had to say, just like Dickon did. Only difference was that they responded in a quiet whisper that only Dickon seemed to be able to hear. Mary, on the other hand, could not.

Slowly she stretched out her arm and began to stroke the petals once again as a small tear slid down her right cheek and dripped off her chin. It fell with painful grace down and was then absorbed by the earth below.

"Oh, how I miss thy, Dickon."

* * *

Colin has been growing more and more impatient with Mary each passing day. His temper wasn't as tamed as Mary's and he knew that he was going to erupt into one his childhood fits if she doesn't shower him with admiration soon.

Currently he was resting on a sofa in the library with a thick book in his hands. His facial expression was one of sheer anger with a deep scowl that seemed as though it was permanently drawn on him.

He wasn't really reading the book just scanning the books pages, his scowl deepening with every turning page as he was sucked into a debate against his feelings and thoughts.

How dare she give him a cold shoulder after giving her such a wonderful gift – Despite the fact it wasn't really _he_ who sent it.

She should be tripping over her own two feet when she sees him! Or even stumbling over her words due to a twisted tongue! That's what all maidens should do after being pursued, at least that is what he has observed from participating in formal parties that Mary never liked going to.

He groaned in frustration when he realized the error in his previous conclusions.

This is _Mary_. She is absolutely nothing like other maidens who blush and stumble once a man offers any sort of interest. He should have known that Mary would be as obvious as they come when it comes to such things such as romance or persuasion. She has never shown such interest in such before. After all, the only interest she has is her garden.

But there was no reason for her to be ignoring invitations for dinner, lunch or even bloody breakfast! Being indifferent is no excuse! All she ever does is be in that blasted garden of hers or be stuffed up in her room with the bloody door locked, allowing only that bloody _maid_, Martha, to come inside her damn chambers.

_How dare she?! _

Then there was that nagging thought in the back of his mind that had been bothering him throughout his anger… Where on earth was Dickon?

Dickon hasn't been around at all since the day Colin found him sitting on the swing with Mary… But thinking back he remembered that they were sitting awfully close for his liking…

Can it be that Mary fancies Dickon more than what she does him?! Outrageous! How can she fancy a _commoner _when he was destined to be lord of the Manor? He was going to inherit his father's riches and home while _Dickon _would be considered lucky to even inherit a shoe!

Guilt flooded through Colin as that thought passed. Dickon was, after all, one of his oldest and best friends. He had helped him learn to walk and live as well as showed Mary how to truly be happy. He had been the main source of Mary's and his transformation. To think of such a horrid thing about him was like cursing the gods themselves!

How cruel can Colin truly be? Can he be so blinded by jealousy that he'd pour all the blame on such a sweet and loving boy as Dickon?

The answer…

Yes.

All at once the guilt vanished and was replaced by blinding hatred for that rosy-cheeked, goofy-faced and backstabbing bastard.

* * *

Dickon gulped as he stared down at the deep trenches used for war. He pulled nervously at the straps of his uniformed and rubbed his newly shaven head.

The ack of hair brought him no comfort. It had been about a week since he left his home. Every day since was filled with a new challenge. He was forced to undergo intense training, they always lasted until the point he could no longer feel his own body and simply collapsed where he stood along with many others. He felt ill, the food they served was horrible, but it was what kept them all alive and able to continue the challenges. He could not complain, if he did he'd be punished.

Today they were sending them into battle. That was the reason why they rushed the training and made it all the more intense than what it usually was, they needed men to fill the trenches. They needed more men and they needed them fast.

And so there he was, riding in an aircraft and was to be left with a hundred others down in the trenches.

From where he sat near the small window he could see hundreds of bodies scattered around in the trenches. They all wore the same uniforms as he, but it was hard to tell if any were alive or not…

He gulped once more and turned away from the window. The men around him were all around his age and looked just as nervous as he. He didn't dare speak to any one of them and none spoke with him, in fact no one spoke at all. The air was thick with perspiration and fear as well as heavy tension. The only sound was the hammering engine of the aircraft.

"Alright Men! We've arrived! We cannot land so you will all be taking a parachute and then jump out of the plane! The instructions are simple! Count to ten and pull the string! If you land outside of the trench you must immediately retreat into it! DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?!" The captain shrieked across the sea of men.

Every man nodded and began to march towards the plane's opening, taking a parachute on their way out – Dickon included.

"Good Luck, Men! Fight for our Country and Fight for your lives!" The Captain shouted and then turned on his heel and retreated into his aircraft chambers.

Two commanders stood by the opening and were handing the parachutes to the soldiers and repeated the instructions. Commander Lockwood was one of them, much to Dickon's annoyance.

When Dickon approached Lockwood smirked towards him and handed him a parachute.

"Don't die out there, lad. You've got a big family to get back to." Lockwood laughed mockingly at him and the sound pierced Dickon's heart. "Count to ten and pull this string." Lockwood continued, ignoring Dickon's pained expression. He lightly tugged the string that would release the chute. Lockwood then shoved the parachute in Dickon's arms. "Good luck, Soldier Sowerby."

"Aye, Sir." Dickon whispered with a quick nod. Lockwood didn't like that.

He cupped his hand around his ear and shouted.

"What did you say, Soldier?!"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" Dickon shouted as he saluted the Commander with a small glare. Lockwood smirked and pushed Dickon away.

"You're holding up the line, Sowerby!"

Dickon never thought of cursing anyone… but for Lockwood… he made an exception.

Silently he let out a string of cursing directed towards the Commander in question, making sure that all the words were in broad Yorkshire as to confuse those around him, and pulled on the chute. Sucking in a deep breath he turned around.

It was time for Dickon to be a man and jump off the plane… into the horrors of war.

Dickon forced himself to keep his eyes opened and sent a silent prayer to the gods above to lead him towards the opening of the trench without dying, preferably.

Another deep breath…

He jumped.

* * *

**Disclaimer: *whistles* I may or may not have sent a certain (and highly beloved, not to mention favorite) character that does not belong to me to his death...**

**Find out more in the coming chapter :)**


	6. You've angered me, Colin

**Chapter 6  
****_"You've angered me, Colin."_**

"Mary! I am tired of your foolish games!" Colin shouted as he barged into Mary's room.

Mary jumped and whirled around her hands fumbling for a weapon to defend herself against the intruder. That stopped when she saw that it was only Colin and not some perverted stalker, but then again…

Mary shook her head and relaxed. "What games, Colin? And please do learn how to knock. I would've thrown that tray at your head." She said as she nodded towards her empty breakfast tray. She turned back around to pick up her dropped pen.

"You know very well what games!" Colin snarled as he stepped into the sun, stomping up to her desk. All the while glaring with as much hatred as he could muster.

Mary remained ignorant towards his childish glare. She twirled the pen between her fingers and rested her head against the palm of her free one. She wasn't in the mood for one of Colin's rage tantrums nor did she have the patience to endure it. "You're not making any sense, Colin. What games? As you can see there are no games on my desk or in my room." She rolled her eyes as she gestured around her.

Colin slammed his fist onto the table, wrinkling the parchment she had been neatly working on.

"Stop it! You know damn well why I'm mad! Why have you been ignoring me?! If this was the way you were going to react because I gave you a few meager flowers then I might as well take them back!" He snarled as he leaned over, raising his hand to grab her chin and force her to look at him.

Mary's eyes had been staring at the ruined parchment before he roughly grabbed her. Her sketches of the beautiful flowers were destroyed by his hand. Her eyes took on a flaming fire of pure anger as she willing met his grey ones. Colin reeled back a bit and allowed his hand to drop, but then caught himself and glared back with just as much anger. The cousins glared at one another, he waited for an answer and she refused to give him one.

She blindly grabbed one of the parchments and shoved it into his chest.

"Take what you have ruined and leave my room. You can have your hissy fit somewhere else." She snarled as she stood from her place. She shoved past him and walked towards her wardrobe.

Colin let out a slight 'oof' by the force Mary had used. She had always been a strong girl, even when she was frail. He knew better than to test Mary's patience, but he was a blind man at the moment. A blind man with a nasty green eye.

"You little whore." He snarled as he grabbed onto her arm. "You refuse to answer me because of your guilt. You're most likely shagging Dickon out there in that garden of yours. That must be why you can't eat a simple dinner with me. Is he good then, Mary? Is he wha-"

SLAP!

The sound of Mary's hand colliding with Colin's cheek echoed in the large room. Mary stood fuming as she watched how Colin recoiled, staggering back and grabbing his cheek while at the same time releasing her arm. His eyes wide-open in shock.

"Don't you dare speak that way about Dickon. He is twice the man you seem to think you are." She snarled as she stepped forward, her hand raised as though to slap him once more. "Don't you dare call me a whore. I am a lady and you will do well to remember that."

Her voice held an intimidating growl as she spoke, reminding him that she was not any other maiden. This was Mary, her hair frizzled with her fury and she could conjure up a scowl that no other could imitate. Her eyes battled with his, demanding that she be victorious and that he should back down and leave.

But this was Colin, after having reeled himself back from the shock; ignoring the sting on his cheek from her very strong slap, he stared straight into her eyes. Returning her scowl with his infamous glare.

Both were known for their short tempers, both were known for the way they'd scrunch up their faces just before a fight or tantrum breaks out, both known for their stubbornness and both were known for their utter loyalty for the other.

The times they had fought had always been rare. He'd try not to raise his voice at her and she'd try not to lose her patience with him. They had been a finely tuned machine, working together to contain their anger towards the world.

That is why this fight would not be anything close to a normal fight between siblings or cousins, for days Mary had been ignoring and avoiding Colin leading to him building up his anger with no way to release it but to yell out demands at poor maids and butlers. This fight was a battle between two emotionally empowered and passionate people who both believed they were the one who had been wronged.

Colin stood taller than she did, but Mary refused to back down.

"So you admit that you're nothing more than a filthy little whore." He spat at her, his tongue biting before his mind could think. He faltered for a moment, realizing that he shouldn't have said that but it was too late. The damage has been done.

Mary's eyes took on a darker shade of gold, her hair frizzling with her anger and he could see the small muscles in her arms flexing as she took a step closer.

"How much of a whore can one be if she is a virgin?" She drawled, her voice pitching low with a growl, long gone were the furious high pitched screaming what remained was a lioness lurking on her prey.

If Colin hadn't been as angry as he was he would've repented and begged for forgiveness, but alas even that was an impossible feat.

In a sudden burst of rage Mary shot out her hand, fisting onto Colin's collar and brought his face down to her eye-level. Her eyes narrowed into a deadly glare as she slammed his forehead against hers. He flinched at the impact but Mary remained unperturbed.

"You see yourself so high and mighty, surrounded by jewels and great riches, like a rajah. " Her tone reverting to the tone she had used while telling a story, but at that moment it no longer held joy and mystery. It held a desire to harm the one she spoke about, a desire to strike a blow with only her words. She was lost in her fury to know this herself.

"You no longer see the beauty in that which is simple, not anymore. You dare spit out vile words of malice to those you once held dear and who gave you their loyalty in return. You turn your back to the magic that helped heal your legs, that helped heal you from an illness that was stuck in your mind.

"You've angered me, Colin. You've angered the gods that give our garden its magic. You've angered the robins and the foxes. You've angered the moor and our mansion. You're lies have brought on great consequence's. And I hope you know how to heal them.

"I know what you have done, Colin. I know about your lies. Those roses were never from you. You hadn't felt guilt over what you have said; instead you take credit on a gift that was given out of love for your own selfish and arrogant reasons. I have been fooled by you and now you shall pay.

"But first I must ask you one question, and a simple question it is. If you lie to me now our friendship will never mend, but if you tell me the truth than perhaps somewhere in the future we will be back to our old ways. It is your choice, but I warn you… choose wisely."

She stopped, slightly panting from her long-winded speech-story telling- and stared Colin down. Her gaze unwavering with no fear or regret. She waited for her words to sink in as she looked into his wide-enchanted eyes. He had always been put in a sort of trance once she had begun to use her 'story-telling voice'.

After a moment of silence. She drew in a breath and whispered out the question that had been burning in her mind since she discovered the true sender of her precious gift.

"Did you know who sent those roses?"

" I didn't know… I still don't." Colin replied, swiftly and robotic. He was too far gone in the smooth voice Mary had used and by the fact that he was only a hairs-breath away from her plump lips. His mind had fogged and his breathing came out heavy as he fought for control.

"Are you telling me the truth?" She breathed, fully aware of her effect on the young man before her. After all, she was the one who lulled him to sleep with her stories of Indian gods and goddesses during their childhood.

"Yes…" He replied. His eyes were fogged and clouded with desire. It was a new emotion on him that Mary had never seen.

And she knew she needed to put a stop to it.

She flattened her hand from where it was permanently creasing his tunic and used her strength to push the dazed man away from her. As expected, he stumbled back and grabbed hold of the desk behind him to regain his composure. He was breathing hard as he suddenly began twisting and turning his head as though awakened.

His eyes landed on Mary and a sudden pained look crossed before he turned and ran from her room.

Slamming the door shut on his way out.

* * *

Dickon shivered violently as he curled into the muddy wall of the trench. He clutched the gun close to him and stared wide-eyed into the lifeless eyes of his partner. He could hear the screams of men around him, the awful explosion as another shot was fired and the painful hisses from the aftermath. There were sounds of thuds of fallen men as the enemy tried to get close, shooting their off their own weapons only to be shot down by one of our own.

He could hear the cursing of the man next to him. He snarled at him to get up and fight. Fight for your country like a man. When he noticed he didn't get a response from the shivering 18-year old, he viciously kicked him to gain his attention.

Awakening from his own despair he met the cold grey eyes of Thompson, a man he tends to speak to the most, he was from Yorkshire too, but older than Dickon. He could see the panic in the man's eyes and realized that now was not the time to crumble with fear.

Dickon nodded and grabbed hold of the gun. The muscles he had gained from the time spent here flexed as he heaved the heavy gun onto his right shoulder, crouched against the edge of the trench and began firing away, hissing as the heated gunpowder came onto his cheeks after firing his bullet.

This was war. No life was spared here, the nature was polluted and the men were entranced by the wanting to live to see another day.

That want came with a heavy price. A price Dickon was not sure he wanted to pay.

Yet, he still took aim.

* * *

_**Disclaimer: Me no own shiz!**_

**AN/** Here is the (extremely) long awaited chapter! Read and enjoy!

On a side note I'd like to say that I truly love and treasure the support of my readers. For you I have gone back and re-read the entire story and fixed it up with any grammer errors and misspelling. I do hope you all enjoy this chapter and the chapters to come ^^

Review to fuel my precious plotbunnies!


	7. I do love Colin

**Chapter 7**

_**I do love Colin**_

"Don't ye worry, Dickon. Loosen up. There be no danger right now." Thompson said as he brought over a small sack of water. He handed the sack to Dickon who sat hunched over against the dried wall before settling down next to the young shivering boy.

"Eh, I can't help it. Don tha get the feelin' that anything can happen? As if the very sky will fall over our heads!" Dickon said as gulped down half the sack, sparring the rest for later.

"Aye, that I do. I've had tha feelin' since we came."

Dickon looked up at the older man, his wide-eyes meeting the cold grey of his companion. "How does tha do it? How does tha ignore the fear?" Dickon questioned, his tone of voice raising in near hysteria.

Thompson turned towards him. His eyes wielding a thousand legends and stories, yet only one spoke the truth. Both men wore a thick layer of grime and sweat, dirt smeared across skin, clothing stained with blood of those who had fallen.

Yet, one could call out: "Don't ye worry." to the one shivering against the wall that gave them a lousy sense of protection.

"Do ya really wanna know my secret? Tha reason as to why I still stand? I still fight?" Thompson questioned, his eyes storming with a hidden depth.

"Aye, I would like that very much." Dickon answered as he poured some water into the palm of his hand and swiped it across his burning forehead.

"Alright then." Thompson said as he leaned back and stared at the blue sky that held no clouds. "I think of mi family. My wife and my kids and my animals. I think of those I cherish, despite being in this ghastly, hellish place. That is how I live through this that is what comes to mind when I raise that there gun. I have a home that still needs me, as does tha."

"Aye…"

A crow sang somewhere on the outside of the trench. It's song held a melody that Dickon had once grown so used to. The other men around hi groaned and cursed at the crow, knowing it had come to feast itself on rotting flesh.

Though the familiarity of the crow sang out to Dickon. Awakened memories that he had forgotten during his time here in the trenches.

"Eh, Thompson… How long have we been here?" He questioned as he stared down at the sack of water, tilting it left and right, listening to the liquid sliding inside its container.

Thompson groaned as he rubbed his sore back. "I dun know, lad. The days… they've begun to slide together. There are times… times where I dun know if it's day or if it's night. All I know is that when that there sky," He pointed a bony finger towards the blue cloudless sky above them. "turns red… then it's time to load this here gun." He jerked the gun that lay at his side.

Dickon shivered at the sight of the gun. He didn't want to cock that gun again, he didn't want to shoot off its explosive gunpowder and be pushed back by its recoil. He didn't want to take a life.

"Lad, dun look so sick. It'll get better once why are out of this god forsaken hole. Think of that girl, Miss Mary I think her name was." Thompson said as he clapped his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Miss Mary… How do you know her name?" Dickon asked, his voice just above a whisper as her face flashed before his eyes and her laughter rang in his ears.

"Boy, I think the entire camp knows of tha's little lass: Miss Mary. You call for her in your sleep, ya know." Thompson smirked broadly as a sudden burst of laughter left his lips. "I do believe you make 'em old uns feel lonely and…. unfulfilled with your groanin' and moanin' and hollerin'."

A sudden blush crossed Dickon's cheeks as his head snapped back towards the older man's direction. "Tha mun be jokin'!"

"'Fraid not, lad."

"Enemies been sighted! Ready your arms, men!" An alarm rang through the trenches, men hurried into position. A few instantaneously cocked and loaded their gun before heaving it onto their shoulder, others gave prayer, their voices hysterically chanting the words of god and cherishing his might and grace.

Dickon grabbed hold of his gun; his fingers were placed into position. One finger hovered over the trigger.

He glanced up at the sky. The crow he heard before flew overhead before disappearing across the trenches wall, it's path was followed by the color of red. It bled across the deep blue, tinting it with malicious content.

The first shot was fired.

* * *

"Good morning, Miss Mary. How is tha feeling this very fine morning?" Martha practically sang as she entered her mistress's room. In her hands was a tray laced with breakfast goodies such as oatmeal, scones, butter, jam and a steaming cup of tea.

Mary giggled at her maid's antics as she tossed the heavy covers off her body and threw her legs out of her bed. "TO be honest, Martha, I feel a bit queer." She replied as she took hold of her robe. She pulled the thin clothing through her arms before tieing the sash across her waist.

"Queer thy say? Eh, perhaps you haven't been getting enough of the moor? Ya know that the fresh air is good for thy, Mistress, and your skin has been lookin' awfully pale." Martha commented as she set the tray onto the desk. She piled the scattered paper aside and made room for all the goods that had been brought.

"Has it?" Mary questioned as she touched her cheek. She turned towards the full bodied mirror that stood next to her closet and closely stared at her reflection. "My god, it has! Oh, this is dreadful! I'm beginning to look like those stuck-up snobs in London!"

Martha let out a booming laugh as she poured in the preferred amount of sugar into the young woman's tea. "Now, now, lass, tha oughtn't make fun of them. They are human like you and I!"

"That they may be, but they are just dreadful. You should be glad to not have met them. I mean it wouldn't hurt if they'd just take their heads out of their arses ever now and then." Mary groaned as she sat herself down on her desk chair.

Martha lightly swatted her mistress' arm. "Language, Miss Mary! Ms Medlock and I did not bring you up to use such rude words." She scolded as she lightly grinned.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I know I shouldn't use such language… But I'm not joking when I say they are horrid. They care only of themselves and their appearance! Did you know that they can have all the food in the world at the snap of their fingers," Mary snapped her fingers to further inject her point. "and yet they starve themselves to have a slimmer form. It's disgusting how they just seem to be repulsed by what brings us life!"

Martha chuckled as she brought forth a hairbrush and set to work on her mistress' mane of tangles. "Eh, how horrid indeed! Tha know that reminds me of a little girl who lived in this here mansion. She was, I dun know, about 10 years old and she absolutely hated food. In fact she refused to so much as touch a slice of bread. Why, she was as thin as this here strand of hair!" She pulled a strand in front of Mary's eyes.

Mary giggled as she swatted the maiden's hand away. "Oh, please, my situation and theirs are entirely different. I was a sour, sickly child who cared not for appearance while they are grown woman starvhing themselves for the perfect body." Mary said as she picked up her spoon and shoved it into the bowl of oatmeal. "See? It wouldn't kill them to fatten up a bit." She said as she shoveled the spoonful into her mouth.

"Aye, that mun be true… but tha mun not forget that they had a different upbringing. Those lass' did not have Ms Medlock as a governeress, now did they?" She laughed loudly as she ran the brush through the young woman's hair.

Mary giggled as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Or you for that matter."

The room was filled with giggles along with the slight clinking of the mistress's spoon touching porcelain and the soft breeze of air from the brush tenderly running through long honey hair.

As the giggles died, Martha suddenly grew silent. This didn't occur to the young mistress until she finished her meal and was merely sipping at her tea. She glanced up at her childhood friend and noticed that the plump woman was engrossed in thought as she continued her work on her hair.

"Martha? Is something the wrong?" She asked with slight caution.

Martha jolted out of her thoughts and hurriedly shook her head as she finished up her work by tying Mary's hair into a hair bun with small wisps of hair framing the younger woman's slim face.

"No, nothing's wrong with me… Just, this morn we got a telegram from the young Master…" Martha said hisetantly as she sat herself down on the extra stool next to her mistress.

Mary scowled at the mere mention of her cousin. She was in a good mood and she refused to allow her thick-headed cousin to sabotage it. "You mean we finally hear of the coward who ran with his tail between his legs after a small spat?"

"Miss Mary…" Martha warned.

"I'm sorry… What did the sleazy cow-"

"Mary!"

"I mean what did Colin want?" Mary finished, her tone taking on a bitter note.

"The young Master Colin will be coming back in about 3 weeks. Apparently he'll be bringing some of his London friends and is going to celebrate something with a ball." Martha informed, her eyes still held a slight warning towards however Mary chooses to respond.

"Oh, stop giving me that look. Is it really so wrong of me to not want to see his face at the moment? Shouldn't you also be at least a tiny bit angry at him for what he did?" Mary asked as she set down cup and slouched.

"I will not lie to ye, Miss, but I am a wee bit disappointed in Master Colin. Those were Dickon's roses to you and he shouldn't have even thought of taking them as his own." Martha said as she fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. "But Master Colin is still your family. And Families do no-

"Not fight. I know I know… It's just that this time he went way too far! There are times where I just want to wring his neck and get it over with!" Mary said as she touched her fingertips together in a violent motion. "I had told him the day he left that if I see his face again in a thousand years then it'd be too soon!"

"Aye, that I remember! His entire face looked as if ith'll explode any minute while he was packing his belongings into that cart." Martha giggled. "But that was still wrong of thy, Miss Mary. Tha should love your cousin. He is family."

"I do love Colin." Mary replied, exasperated as she hid her face between her hands. "He's my family and I can't thank Uncle Archie enough for all that he's done for me, but this time I just feel this boiling rage. As though I'd sock him if I were to see him again."

"Well, you best not do it when tha sees him! You'd ruined your pretty ball gown that mi mum has worked so hard on." Martha grinned as she patted the young mistress's shoulder. "Dun disappoint mi mum, ye hear? She could be madder than a bat escaping hell's hath!" Martha laughed as she stood up.

Mary's eyes widen with mirth as she spun in her chair. "Your mother will sew my dress?" Her voice became high-pitched with excitement.

"Aye, she will sew you a dress that will take the breath away from all those snuffed up masters' young master Colin will bring home. I bet he'd have a fit seeing you snatching away all tha attention!" Martha laughed gleefully as she picked up the empty tray and proceeded towards the door.

"Oh, I can't wait for that!" Mary laughed in return as she too stood up, straightening out the wrinkles of her dress. "May I come with you on your next visit home? I would love to see your mother again, it's been too long!"

"Eh!" Martha proclaimed as she turned around, back against the heavy wooden door as her face was split in half by a giant grin. "Of course, mistress Mary! You're always welcomed at the home of ty Sowerby's!" She shoved the door open with her back-side and strolled out, laughing as she went.

Mary couldn't help but giggle as she twirled in her room, feeling a sudden mirth of outh as she closed her eyes and danced across the room, following a beautiful melody that only she could hear.

Behind her closed eyelids a sudden picture played. Her mind was conjuring up a scene of the very ball she didn't want to attend, though she had to admit, the scene was beautiful.

The ball room of their manor was decked out with all sorts of colors coming from the drapings that was hung strategically around the room, catching the hundreds of candlelight perfectly and reflecting them boldly across the room. A wonderful band played their instrument, the melody that was only in her mind before now echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and swirling around the people within.

Around her there were all sorts of people, dress' twirling and men bowing. They weren't paying any mind to her, though, and she complied by doing the same as she swirled without a care in the world in the manors' ballroom.

She looked down and saw the dress, hand-sewn by Mrs. Sowerby. She could feel the motherly love woven within each thread embracing her body. The dress itself was majestic. Simple and stunning all at once. There was no need for countless amounts of pearls and jewels, the fabric spoke for itself as it was folded in odd ways, it moved like water. Smooth and cool where it draped on the floor. The bust wasn't overly tight as most were and modestly showcased her ample bosom in a ladylike way, covering her from her collarbone down.

Unlike most ladies whose dresses were cut and tied so tightly that you fear something might just pop out to say hello.

She laughed as she twirled to the left she saw Colin with an odd look in his eye. He was staring at her like a wolf would his prey. She felt bare under his gaze and endangered. That wasn't the Colin she had grown up with, that wasn't the immature and angered boy who left the manor a few months ago. His eyes were narrowed as he watched her, a lecherous grin spread across his face as he crossed his arms on his chest.

She stared back, a sudden cold fear spread like wildfire through her veins. Her body backing away from the strange atmosphere that oozed off of Colin's body.

This man was not her cousin, he was a stranger.

And he wanted to harm her.

The music stopped, the people disappeared and the bold colors turned gray as soon as Colin pushed himself off the wall and took a step in her direction.

"_Are you afrai__d of me__, Mary?"_ The strangers voice was familiar to Colin's, but it lacked life, it lacked the boyish excitement that would bring a smile on her lips. It lacked the love.

"_This is your fault, Mary." _It continued his steps slow and intimidating. "_It is your fault I've become this way." _

Mary wanted to turn around and run, run away from the nightmare her dream has become, but she was frozen in place. She felt as if she's been shot by a paralyzing poison and her body was no longer hers to control.

"_Your entire__ fault." _The man was close now, only a step away from her. Mary's throat closed around her scream as he took that one step, placing his body flushed against hers yet all she felt was the freezing cold he radiated.

He dipped his head and whispered in her ear. "_You've been rejecting me for far too long…__I hope Dickon dies in that war.__"_

Mary opened her eyes and let out a scream. Her hands clutched at her chest as she suddenly whirled around, disoriented, and scanned her room.

Nothing.

She was alone in her own chamber, not in a ball room… not with Colin.

Her mind began to spin as her body staggered, clumsily placing a hand on her desk to steady her wobbling knees. Her sight suddenly blurred from the horrifying vision.

Her fault… It was all her fault. Dickon, if she didn't love Dickon she would love Colin and Colin wouldn't be the power-hungry man he was in her vision. If she just fell in love with Colin, Dickon would be saved from death's clutches. If she could just fall in love with Colin, Colin would be saved from the evil that was jealousy.

If only she could fall in love…

But was it too late for that now?

A butler barged into her room just as her sight blackened and her body fell limp.

* * *

**Disclamier: I do not own the Secret Garden. Why? Because I am 17 years old and flatbroke... That is why... not to mention my name isn't Frances Hodgson Burnett...**

**AN/** Sorry, it's been a while. To be honest I've been holding this chapter hostage for a while now, but I couldn't find the time to edit and correct it until now...

Anyways, I'd like to thank sassyk100 for the very kind reviews. Your reviews made me laugh and smile and also think a little extra on the Colin I have portrayed. You were right, there should've been a little more character development, but I think I decided not to because I believe that Colin was actually happy with the way things were. When everything was alright, but then he saw Mary again after being away for a while. Teenage horomones took over and though he tried to fight it at first, playing it off the way he did as a child, the green eyed monster was simply too much for him. Not to mention when in love things can happen at the blink of an eye...

Thank you for reading my story! :)


	8. What are we to do with tha?

**Chapter 8**

"_**What are we to do with tha?!"**_

The landscape swooshed by as the train rode on. It's engines running fast and loud as the carriages slightly shook from the speed and bumps on the railway tracks. The teacups that sat in the hands of 3 handsome young men shook and threatened to tip as the train's track made a sharp turn to the right.

"Oh, that was a close one. No matter how fantastic and quick these devices for transportation are they are just life threatening! I am absolutely horrified by just how many people have stumbled onto the tracks only to be bashed by a train! I mean aren't there any safety limits?!" A young man; whose eyes were a stunning green, commented as he hurriedly drank up the rest of his tea.

"Of course, there are, Mr Dawn. People who stumble onto train tracks are either drunkards or bumbling idiots. It's near impossible to stop a train in the middle of its course!" replied the second who tied his long black hair into a low tail with a white ribbon. His tone of voice was dejected as he didn't even bother to react when his tea nearly spilled onto his expensive robe. His eyes glued on the glass of the window.

"Don't forget those who simply have a wish to end their miserable lives. Quite a few of those now in these… dark times." The third said as he cradled his own cup within his hand, gently circling the steaming liquid within. "I dare say that those are the true cowards in our world. Wouldn't you agree, Mr Dawn."

Mr Dawn shook his head as he sank back into his chair, carelessly balancing the porcelain cup on his knee. "You two are simply depressing. How on earth did we become friends?!" He exclaimed as he waved his hand between the man who sat on his right and the man who sat in front of him. "And to answer your question I must say I disagree. These certainly are dark times we live in. Take my butler for example, his son had been called into war and he hasn't heard from him since. The poor man has been losing his head over it the last few days."

The man on his right, Mr Howard, managed to tear his eyes away from the window to smirk at his outgoing companion. "He is certainly not the first or the last to be called. My handmaid's son has also been taken in. Yet, you don't see me taking pity on her."

Mr Dawn laughed as he lightly punched Mr Howard's arm. "Why, that's because you're heartless! It's a wonder as to why you wear white so much, it's a complete contrast towards your personality." Mr Dawn shook his head. "Jokes aside, I do pity them. The war has been taking so many lives, the Germans are relentless and I do not have much hope that the Yanks would be of much help. What do you think, Mr Craven?"

Colin Craven shrugged as he continued to sip at his tea. "How should I know? I believe none of my staff members have suffered such a loss, or at least that is what I've seen."

Both men looked at one another in question before turning their attention to the man before them.

"That's strange. Your manor is in Mizzelthwaite. From what I hear the military are looking into those small and out of way villages in order to get good strong men. Apparently work on the farm does a body good muscle wise." Mr Howard commented, leaning back in a careless manner as he spoke. "Though who am I to question your staff? You are after all the master of the house."

Colin laughed at his remark, shaking his head as he too abandoned his cup on his tray. "I may be the master by name, but the staff hardly wishes to serve under me. They prefer the lady of the house. My cousin; Mary Lennox."

"Ah, yes. That charming cousin of yours! My sister attended the same school as she. She tells me that Miss Lennox was often seen talking to the staff as though they were her friends! She ate twice as much food than the rest of the girls." Mr Dawn exclaimed as he accidently knocked his empty cup over with a wave of his hand, ignoring the harsh clatter it made upon impact on the hard wooden floors. "Though, honestly speaking, I do wish to meet her. My sister, though, says she's not mush of a beauty."

Before Colin could object, Mr Howard waved his hand. "Please, your sister may as well be the queen who continuasly asks a mirror of who the fairest of them all may be."

Mr Dawn laughed at that as he clamped his hand on the stoic man's shoulder. "Right you are, Mr Howard, right you are. Still, the rumours aren't so fair against the poor miss of Mizzelthwaithe manor. I do believe my sister nearly keeled over when she saw the young woman stick her fingers in the soil."

Colin chuckled as he listened to the tales of his cousin, knowing full well how Mary can be and will act. London couldn't change her at all from being the stubborn woman that she is.

"She loves to garden." Colin offered, drinking the last of his tea before placing it down. "She is devoted to her bits of land and flowers. She was probably worried that the plant was suffocating in some way." Colin shrugged. "Oh, and I assure you, she is quite the beauty."

Mr Howard rasied an eyebrow, turning back to look out the window. "Curious." He muttered as he watched the landscape roll by.

Mr Dawn nearly bounced in his seat as he leaned forward, hands clasped together as an easy grin crossed his handsome features. "Now, She's peaked my interest through such queer behavious."

"Queer?" Colin chuckled as he leaned back in his seat and looked out the window. "My cousin is certainly not like any other lady. Though I must warn you, do not cross her. She drove me out of the manor in our last argument."

Mr Howard laughed at that, surprising both of his companions and causing their eyes to lay on him. "That explains why we found you wondering the lands like some sort of lost soul. I take it we will meet her soon?"

Colin raised an eyebrow as a smirk spread across his lips. "Is this train not heading towards Mizzelthwaite?

* * *

"Miss Mary, is tha sure tha's fit to travel? I know it's only a half hour away, but tha's been unwell quite often these days. Perhaps it'd be best to stay here at the manor." Martha suggested, her fingers interlaced with eyes filled with concern. She was dressed for travel, sporting a floppy hat and a comfortable ancle-length dress with an extra layer to preserve warmth.

Mary waved her off, dressed similarly with subtle differences due to their social status and wealth. Mary's robes were much bolder in color with fabric in better quality.

"Don't you dare worry 'bout me, Martha!" Mary exclaimed as she swung her own baggage into the back of the carriage, absentmindedly ignoring the servant boy who stood, originally ready to take her luggage, beside her with his hands extended forward and a dumbfounded look plastered on his face. "I'm as healthy as an ox with only a few downfalls. 's all."

Mary shook her head as she let out a sigh of frustration. "Tha needs to care more 'bout tha's health! Eh, you'll be sicker than a dog on the streets before winter hits! Only tha won't have their winter fur to warm thyself with!" She crossed her arms as her eyes narrowed in on the younger maiden, looking like an annoyed mother scolding her child.

Mary laughed as she stepped into the carriage. She waved her hand in the air under the act of arrogance. "Then call a doctor!" Mary cried with another wave of her hand. She tuned in her seat, legs hanging out the door while her dress billowed out with the wind. Her eyes were pleading as she gazed at her elder friend.

"Martha." She whined as she slumped in her seat, back hunching while her lower lip stuck out in a pout. " I can't stand being in that large mansion right now! I need a change of scenery. I need to breathe in more of the moor's fresh air. I need to run through the hill's prickled with flowers and over flowing with wild grass. I need to hear a child's laughter and eat a mother's cooking. I need to sing along with a bird's sweet melody. Please, Martha. I need this."

Martha bit her lip as glanced at the confused servant boy, silently asking for his advice on the matter. He shrugged in reply and nodded.

"Let the missus have her song and food and air. All in Mizzletwaith knows of how refreshing and healin' the moor can be, miss Martha. Take thy brother, Dickon, for example! Healthy as a horse 'n' fightin' to protect this here beloved country." The boy nodded eagerly, green eyes shining with adoration as his curly bush of blonde hair bobbed along his scalp.

Mary smiled at him, slightly saddened that she did not know the young boy's name, not to mention ignored him while he was only doing his job. He must've been one the new recruits her Uncle had hired. She hadn't had much time to chat with the fresh meat as of late.

"Forgive me, I don't believe I know your name." Mary said as she turned in her seat to look at the boy in question.

The boy's eyes grew wide as he realized that his lady had been speaking to him. He twiddled his fingers as a blush of embarrassment flushed his facial features.

"Will-Willfred, missus, Willfred Stevensson at tha's service." He bowed awkwardly, fumbling with his words.

Mary smiled bright at the blonde boy, happy to see such a young spirite's innocence. Something she and others her age have lost long ago due to the news and cruelty of the world around them.

"Pleasure to meet you, mr Stevensson. I do hope you'll enjoy working at the manor despite this short feud between our young, arrogant son of a-" Martha let out a throaty cough in warning. Mary shot her a sly grin before turning back to the boy. "I mean between the idiotic" another choking cough " young master and I."

Sweat coated his brow, due to nerves and surprise over his lady's harsh tongue, as he waved both hands in front of him. "E-eh, the pleasure's all mine! Mi family and me has always ad-admired tha's family! Th-tha treats ye servants well and with respect. Which is more than w-we could ever as-ask for! All of Mizzletwaithe is very happy with thy!"

Martha giggled behind her as she watched the exchange. Her mistress' eyes had grown wide at the young boy's sudden confession, never having understood just how happy and grateful the poor was to have generous nobles in their area. Her giggles drew Mary's attention away from the sweltering boy and back towards her.

"Care to share what amuses you so, Martha?" Mary asked, laughter coating her own voice despite her cocked eyebrow.

"No-nothing, Miss Mary!" Martha nearly cried out through her giggles. "It's just funny to see tha so easily distracted by simple things! Wasn't tha just tryin' to persuade me to come with?"

Mary smirked as she shrugged, snuggling deeper into her seat. "I've already decided that I am healthy and fit to meet your family." She turned in her seat and crossed her ankles, straightening her spine as she turned her head towards the mop of blonde hair. "Take care of my uncle, alright. I fear his health has been waning as of late. I've been trying my best, but there's only so much I can do."

As she smiled, a sad emotion flickered within her eyes. For a split second she had been vulnerable at the thought of her ill uncle, stricken by his age, though it only lasted for a second. In the next moment her eyes were a blazed with a fire still burning despite growing out of childish rebellion. It burned brightly within her honey-colored eyes. She snapped her gaze back at Martha as her smile transformed itself into a smirk.

"And you, tha best hop in before I leave without ye!" She then scooted further into the carriage melding with the shadows easily.

Martha chuckled as she shook her head at her mistress' antics. "Eh, I'm no longer as fit as I under to be! I fear I may have let miself go a bit!" She called as she grabbed hold of the door handles and heaved her plump body into the carriage. She waved goodbye to Willfred before slamming the carriage's wooden door shut.

Their journey to the small cottage on the outskirts of the village was uneventful. Mary playfully bickered back and forth with Martha on the state of her health as the small carriage hustled through the rocky roads.

The gentle clomping of the horses hooves ceased in their sound, signaling their arrival. Mary had taken matters into her own hands before the driver could jump down from his perch to open the doors for the ladies. She pushed the carriage door open and leaped out of the carriage, her skirts swirling around her, twisting with her legs as she stumbled into a landing.

"Martha! Martha! It's so beautiful out here! We should come more often!" Mary exclaimed as she laughed joyfully, her body spinning as she breathed in the moor's fresh air. The landscape was practically glowing with various shades of green and brown, dotted by rainbow colors. Grass and wild flowers.

Ahead was the small cottage housing the large Sowerby family. Smoke arose from their stone chimney as the birds flew high above them in the blue open skies.

"Eh, Missus! Tha cannot scurry of in such a way! Thy nearly gave poor ol' Frank a heart attack, tha did!" Martha shouted as she comforted their shocked driver, who's hand was clutching his chest and breathing coming out in light pants.

"T'is fine, the missus is excited. T'is all." He breathed as he patted Martha's hand.

Mary stopped in his twirling, concern marring her features. "Frank, are you alright? I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself."

The elder man smiled at her as he waved her off. "It'd take more than jus' surprise to off me, Missus. Tha does not need to fret." He chuckled before walking around the carriage to retrieve their luggage.

Martha crossed her arms before glaring sharply at Mary, who in return smiled sheepishly. "I really couldn't help it, Martha…" She said, feeling like a little girl being scolded.

Martha shook her head and threw her hands in the air. "What are we to do with tha?!"

Mary shrugged as she grinned. "Perhaps you should lock me up and hide the key!"

Martha snorted as she began walking towards the cottage. "As if that would keep thy still!"

The door to the cottage suddenly swung open, nearly shocking it off its hinges, as an elder plump woman happily walked into the sun. Her hands gripped her hips, fingers sinking into the stained apron that was tied around her waist and neck ontop of her dress.

"Eh! Thy dare keep mi waitin' and waitin' inside the house! C'mon here and give thy mother a hug!" She demanded as she opened her arms, her red lips spread across her face, lighting up her rosy cheeks and honey eyes.

Martha smiled largely as she ran the last few steps and into her mother's arms. "Aye, I missed tha, mother."

The elder woman embraced her daughter tightly, exchanging whispered words as they held on, before she gently pushed away and beamed towards the suddenly shy little woman before her.

"An' what is tha waiting for? C'mere an' give this ol' woman a hug!"

Mary giggled as she raced into the woman's arms, embracing her mother figure tightly as she muttered words of affection. The woman shook with unguided laughter as she folded the tiny woman into her larger arms.

"Took tha long enough."

It didn't take long for tears to spill as the weight of a certain absence made itself known as the 2 woman clung to each other for support.

* * *

Dickon sighed heavily as he rolled his shoulder back, grimacing as the muscle protested against such movements. He hissed sharply at the pain in his leg. He glanced down quickly, fearing the starving animals searching for more flesh, and sighed in relief when he noticed he had only brushed against a rock.

He heaved his leg onto higher ground, his nose crinkling as he caught sight at the nasty flesh wound threw a tear in his pantleg.

A stray bullet must've caught him in the leg without his knowing.

He sighed heavily as he carefully rolled up the clothing to get a better look.

"Eh! Boy, that's not good!" Thompsson hollered as he leaned over to examine the wound himself, his lips pursing in thought. "It dun seem to be infected… yet." He cursed as he turned away, his eyes searching the area.

Dickon couldn't hold the sob that escaped him. He stared at his leg, the skin split and flesh torn. He thanked the heavens themselves for the comfort of no blisters or pus. He needed his legs to survive. He had seen what has happened to those who lost limbs.

A quick glance to the right only confirmed his caution. You were food for the red-eyed crows without an arm or a leg.

His watery eyes followed Thompsson as the older man stood, hunched within the trench – caution against the enemies-, as he walked across the hole to a man, dead from the mornings shootings. He bowed his head in respect and knelt, giving his soul a quick prayer before taking hold of his clothing and tearing off the material in strips.

He proceeded to dig around the man's pouch and found a canteen. He shook it for good measure and sighed I relief to find it still filled.

He backed away from the rotting corpse before turning back towards him. "Tha needs this more than he." He muttered as he crouched down next to Dickon.

Dickon looked at the man with admiration. He held his breath as he reached his hand forward, a cold fear already rushed down his spine.

Thompsson smile in understand as he grabbed hold of the younger man's hand. He grabbed hold of the leg and placed it on his knee. He looked the boy in the eye. "This'll hurt, but it'll do it's job." He reassured.

Dickon nodded, looking away and locking eyes with a boy, younger than himself, hunching in a corner cradling his gun to his chest with eyes wide with fright. The boy's mud streaked face grimaced as he shifted his sight towards Thompsson.

Slowly water poured out of the canteen and onto the wound. It stung as it washed away the dried blood and mud mixture. Slowly, but surely, the pain subsided into a soothing feeling. Sotthing the angry wound as it finished it's job.

"Would've been better with a little alcohol." Thompsson tsked as he finished off the canteen, using his finger to wipe away the remaining filth as best he could before bandaging it with the strips of cloth. "There ye go, boy. Should be just fine, but lay off the leg for a while."

Dickon nodded his thanks as he leant back, ignoring the throbbing in his leg as he shifted his sight back towards the young cowering boy.

The boy stared back at him, his young gaze filled with curiosity as he studied Dickon. Never one to miss a chance to be friendly, Dickon waved the boy over with a tired grin.

"What's yo- What's your name?" Dickon questioned, his eyelids heavy as he battled to stay conscious.

The young boy cautiously shuffled forward. Eyes wide with wonder and fear as he stumbed for words.

"My name is Colin." He said, his London accent thick as he sat himself down against the trench's muddy wall, across from Dickon. "Colin Lanely."

Dickon grinned brightly as he sat himself up a little straighter, ignoring Thompsson tsk of disapproval.

"I have a friend named Colin. Strange young lad, he is. Proper and smart, as well." Dickon commented as he leaned heavily against the wall for support, slipping slightly on the loose pebbles and dirt. "He loves to read, that he does. 'Always with his nose in a book', his cousin, Miss Mary would say."

The boy's eyes suddenly lightened with as he leaned forward, his previous caution forgotten as a smirk spread across his cheeks. "Is this the Miss Mary you constantly moan about in your sleep?"

Thompsson howled in laughter as Dickon's cheeks ignited with a blush. His hand clenched around a nearby rock.

"That she is! Such youth tha has. Us old uns can miss our wives so dearly when he starts moaning and groaning." Thompsson shouted. Brightening up the sorrowful mood with his banter. Others around them chuckled and laugh.

Dickon couldn't help but laugh as well, despite that the laughter was caused at his expence.

_This war didn't have to be all pain and sorrow._ Dickon thought as he looked around and saw the men join in a new bount of laughter due to Thompsson's dirty comments. _As long as we stand together and laugh, there will always be hope. There will always be happiness._

Yet the sky soon bled red as the first shot was fired by their opposing field.

* * *

**AN/** _Hi, It's been a while. Sorry for the late update... I had actually begun this chapter a while ago, but then got sidetracked, forgot my main idea... remembered the idea, wrote... forgot to update and now, remembered due to my sleeping problems and a common cold... which is the cause of my sleeping problems... Alright, part of it... I like to read! Sue me *pouts*_

_Anyways, a little about the idea. It's a bit of a time skip, kinda. I mean, we knew Colin was on his way home already, but I've mellowed him out for now. Let's see just how long that lasts..._

_You know what to do. My imagination, inspiration and will-power is fed through your reviews (And coffee... *wink wink* )... Feed me, oh precious one._

_Oh yeah... **DISCLAIMER:** I do not own The Secret Garden in any way or how... But no worries, I'm still searching for ownership on E-Bay... not really... I'm too lazy for that..._


	9. I will go back

**Chapter 9**

**"I will go back."**

Mr. Darwin Howard sighed deeply as he wandered the dark halls of Mizzeltwaithe manor, having long since abandoned his boisterous companions in favor of a peaceful stroll around the manor. His main goal was simply to escape the noisy discussions, but ended up getting lost in the stretched out halls of the near gloomy mansion.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration as he turned down yet another dark and saddened hall way, unlabeled doors lined up against the darkly tapestried walls. How he could get lost in this manor was beyond him. It most definitely was not larger than his own back in London. In fact as far as manors go; it was a quite small with a minimal amount of staff that rushed through the hallways preparing the rooms for their guests.

Another sigh escaped his thin lips before pressing on, arms behind his back as he walked along the corridor in a careless manner. It wasn't until he walked towards the end of the hallway that he saw a sliver of light seeping through a slight crack of a door opening that he halted in his steps.

He stared at the door, which differed from the others by sign of light, for any label of sorts. It proved useless as he took note that this door was, much like the rest; unlabeled and dull.

Yet, unlike the others, light was escaping. It nearly glowed, beckoning him forward in an almost with a hypnotic aura. He resisted the pull, turning away from the strange door and continuing forward. His steps much slower as his back suddenly hunched.

Curiosity certainly did kill the cat.

Mr. Howard suddenly swirled on his heel, his steps determined as he rushed forward. He stopped in front of the door and stared once again, his hand slowly reaching forward; touching the knob of the door with a great hesitance before throwing caution to the win and yanking the door open with vigor.

He stopped breathless.

The room the door had hidden was of great contrast towards the rest of the manor. Most curtains had been shut around the manor, while the walls had been tapestried with dull fading colors, yet this room was bold. Its walls bright with rich colors as the sun's strong light bounced off them, creating the illusion of a bigger and grander room. The furniture was modest and mostly cleaned, expect for the desk on the right side of the room, just beneath a grand window, which was cluttered with various papers and tools as wells as some greenery.

The bed had been wide, but not wide enough for a male and certainly not plush enough for a lady. The persons who owned this room must not be interested in riches and luxury, yet their room was more extraordinarily than any other room he had seen.

A startled gasp, shook him out of his musings. He turned his head and saw a frazzled looking maid starring wide eyed at the gentleman before her. Mr Howard's eyes swept along her person and concluded that the maid held no interesting nor eye-catching features, simply an average plain woman from the country.

"Sir!" She shrilled as she rushed forward, forgetting her place as she intruded into his personal space. "Dear Sir! This 'ere room belongs to the missus of the house!" She exclaimed, hurrying to shut the door, concealing the bright room with the dull wood. "Nobody is allowed in the personal rooms." Slight perspiration covered her brow as she looked up at the dark gentleman.

Mr Howard scoffed. "Do you mean the lady of the manor?" He questioned, turning his nose in the air. The maid may not have been as strongly accented like the other servants, but she obviously hadn't had any training in ethics due to the nerve she had to dare scold him as though he were some kind of child.

The maiden blushed beat-red as she backed away, her hands nervously patted the front of her apron, most likely due to the nervous sweat she had going.

"A-aye, dear sir." She replied, her voice a few octaves lower than her sudden shrill from earlier. "I have received strict orders, tha sees." She says, her voice slightly wavering as she twiddled her fingers. "The mis- I mean, the lady is away visiting a dear friend of hers, she is. Her personal handmaid has ordered that no one steps foot in the lady's room, tha sees. The lady herself does not know, that she dun, and…"

Mr. Howard had heard enough and silenced the flustered maid with a wave of his hand. "I do not need any specifics." He said, his arrogance running high as he glanced down at the maid with narrowed eyes. "Just point me in the direction of the library. I wish to rejoin my companions." He demanded hauntingly.

The young maid near yelped as she replied with an "Of course, right this way." and shuffled down the hallway. Mr. Howard followed at a leisurely pace, his eyes glancing back towards the glowing door that faded away as he progressed further

_The lady of the manor… _He pondered as he reached the blushing, perspiring maiden who continuiosly ringed her course hands together in an almost obsessive manner. _This lady must be Colin's cousin. Mary Lennox._

"It seems she has peeked my interest as well."

"Did you say something, dear sir?" The maiden shrilled with wide eyes

Mr. Howard did not see it fit to dignify her question with an answer and glared at her before continuing on ahead, ignoring the way the maid flailed to keep up.

* * *

Mary laughed gleefully as she flung her body on top of the grass, enjoying the slight prickling feeling on her bare arms and neck as she rolled around. The sun was shining brightly over the moor, causing the birds to sing their sweet melody and the animals to awaken from their slumber. Children played around her, chasing one another as they laughed with all their worth.

"Miss Mary!" Martha hollered somewhere at the bottom of the hill Mary was currently perched upon. "Miss Mary! Dun tha thinks it's 'bout time to head to the manor! Colin will be arriving soon!"

Mary resisted the sudden urge groan. "Dun tha dare ruin my moment of peace!" She hollered back, gone was her London accent, favoring the sweet timber of Yorkshire. She giggled loudly as she rolled onto her stomach, fingers lightly stroking a yellow wildflower that sat before her nose.

"Dun tha make me come up there! Lady or not I will not think twice 'bout pulling you down 'ere by the ear!" Martha threatened. Mary giggled madly as she kicked her legs, her simple white dress billowed around her as the wind picked up.

"Then come pull on mi ear! Pull on mi ear and yell! I will still remain seated on this 'ere moor!" Mary shouted in return, her eyes catching sight of a young sparrow taking flight. She smiled at the sight.

Though the smile soon turned into a cautious frown when a sudden flock of birds escaped the trees, a mixture of breeds swarmed together, cawing and shrilling as they suddenly flew away.

Mary instantly sprung to her feet as she scanned the tree-line, seeing animals escape into burrows and various woodland creatures climbed into the trees leafy security. Her eyes grew wide as she noticed there eerie silence. She swirled around on her heel and saw that Martha had also noticed the sudden change in atmosphere, her honey eyes wide with sudden fear as she silently beckoned the young lady towards her.

Mary had taken a step forward when she suddenly heard it, the loud rumble of metal. Paralyzed by her fear she could do nothing more, but glance upward and saw the large machinery that flew above them. It moved slowly as it inched forward. On the side of the large hunk of metal she could make out a flag with three thick horizontal strips; black, red and yellow.

The Germans.

From afar Mary heard the sudden shrieks of horror and startled shouts from parents hustling their young. Martha was huddling her younger siblings together as she took shelter beneath an overgrown tree. Her wide, fear-struck eyes attached themselves on Mary's frozen form.

"Mary!" She shouted, desperation lacing her voice in the vilest of ways. Her arms filled with her sobbing siblings as she nodded towards her hurriedly. "Mary! Come here! Quickly!"

With a sudden bout of strength, Mary pumped her legs towards the meek shelter. Her dress tangled itself with her feet causing her to trip and tumble every here and there.

"Mary!" Martha shrieked after a nasty fall from Mary, causing the young girl to slide across the grass, ruining her once sunny dress.

With a frustrated groan, Mary committed an indecent act. She grabbed hold of the billowing skit and tore. The dress gave way with a loud rip, unevenly tearing around her body, but freeing her bare legs.

Once the bottom half of her skirt was gone, she picked herself up and ran, skidding into the sobbing group and throwing her arms around them, shielding them with her slim body.

Time stood still as the metal of the aircraft churned in a tormented cry. Its mechanism wailing as it carried on, slowly passing by with malevolent intentions.

Soon the area grew quiet, tension arose like a thick heavy fog, broken only by the small sniffles of children and silent sobs of those who fear the aircrafts intent. The aircraft's suffering sound long past.

The tension didn't release until the first cry of a mocking bird broke through the highly wired tension.

* * *

"M-Mary, th-tha mun return to tha's m-mansion." Martha hiccupped quietly as she turned her eyes towards the young lady. Her fingers interlacing with one another as she worried her bottom lip. "T'is too d-dangerous for t-thy to be among us p-poor folk."

They sat in the Sowerby's cramped kitchen, the children were in the upper floors, sobbing silently into their mother's chest as she tried to calm their histerics. Martha and Mary tried to sooth their own worries by drinking a comforting tea, though it didn't take long until Martha voiced her own fears.

Mary shook her head fearfully. "I cannot."

"Tha mun!" Martha near shrieked, keeping her voice low in order to not scare the already terrified children. "Tha mun… Tha is the lady of tha's manor. Tha's place is in the manor, not with us. Tha mun return. I shall follow soon after, once things has settled 'round here."

Mary's eyes teared up as she stared in disbelief at the elder woman before her. Her slight lips opened and closed as they formed a sudden lack to form words. She choked on her own sobs as the plump woman's words sunk in.

"You wish… f-for me… to leave?" She spoke slowly as she turned away from her only female friend. "Asambhava!" She shrieked in Hindi, one of the few words she still remembered from her upbringing.

Martha sobbed loud as she clasped her hands together in front of her nose, pressing them tightly against her face as the tears rolled wildly. She was the perfect picture of a desperate woman turning towards a lord much more powerful than the king.

"P-please." She pled in desperation. "Pl-please, dearest missus, I mun-mun send th-tha back. T'is not ri-right for a lady of y-your stature to stay in here in the sl-slums." Her voice cracked and jumped as hiccups escaped her, racking her full being viciously.

Mary shakingly bit her bottom lip, understanding her friend's- no, at this moment, Martha wasn't thinking in such terms. She wasn't just worried about Mary, her friend, she was worried for Mary, th Lady of Mizzeltwaithe Manor. Mary wasn't a simple town woman like Martha and Mrs Sowerby, she wasn't a country girl, she was a bred lady whose meant to be sold in marriage in order to take care of the manor and the people within. Martha's position as a servant weighed much heavier than her position as a childhood friend.

Too much was at stake for such luxury, too many responsibilities and honors.

But then again, Mary was never a woman to follow the rule laid out before her. No, when a cat has a mouse trapped, it is the mouse that viciously attacks.

Mary drew in a deep breath as she straightened her spine, her fingers clenched around the torn fabric of her ruined afternoon dress as she stared at the wooden door in front of her. The atmosphere around her oozed every bit of her stature.

Her mind was decided.

"Alright, Martha." Her voice went unwavered as she swiped an arm across her face, quickly drying the fresh tears that brew in her eyes. "I will go back."

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: *peeks out the window... sigh* Sorry guys, pigs have not sprouted wings, hell hasn't fozen over and I still do not own The Secret Garden and all of it's Fa-bu-lous characters. **

**_AN/_ **It has come to my attention that my story has been growing more and more in popularity! Woo! I whole-heartedly thank you for being so patient and loyal. Being a 17 year old girl in her second year in High School... I think that's Twelfth grade for those of you who do not know the Swedish system ;)... isn't easy, especially in my prestigious school and sport activity...

Oh, and I've heard from my beta that I don't write nearly enough love-activity as I should in any of my stories... the answer is simple. I don't know how. I just can't imagine it. So I apologize if the fluff department here is practically empty. I try, but it's hard when all I have to say about my love-life is a failed long-distance relationship with a dude I met at a martial arts competition... Yeah, not exactly romantic.

Anyways, thank you all! Kisses and Hugs for everybody! (This is a big deal since I'm not really touchy-feely in general...)


	10. I'm too vulnerable

**Chapter 10**

_**I'm too vulnerable**_

_There are many different kinds of people_, Dickon thought as he lay boneless on the cold hard ground. A cloud of dust rising and swaying as men ran past him, guns on the shoulders, knives out, charging towards the enemy. Dickon heard nothing though, other than a dull pounding in his ears and a high screech. His entire body was numb, but he knew that his muscles were aching terribly- if they were still attached, and his skin was frozen to the touch.

_There are those who, like Thompsson, take action before thought and there are those, like Colin, who ponders before doing. _Dickon continued, his mind; his only haven from the hell his body was bestowed in, continued to ponder and imagine. He was dimly aware that another body had fallen next to his – most likely not as lucky as he to still be breathing.

_There are those who would sell their own mother for a meager piece of bread. _Harrison, a vile man who used to sit and brag in the trenches, running his mouth on women he slept with and family heirlooms he sold. Dickon never hated anyone, but that man prodded his nerves in the wrong ways. _But then there are those who would work themselves into an early grave for a single shilling._ Thompsson. Dickon could remember his gnarled nails and calloused hands, hands of a man who worked every day his entire life to continue living –not just for himself, but for everyone of his loved ones too.

_There are good people and there are bad. _During the one week of training, the sergeant would scream and preach that it was the Germans who were evil, it was the men on the other side who were vicious and blood-thirsty creatures and by exterminating them we exterminate the evil of the world. Thus making our home a more peaceful place.

_There are optimist and there are pessimists_. He could recall simpler times, when he was still a boy and running through the great wilds of the moor. During times where light shined bright and dark clouds could never dampen his spirits. Even through the rains he'd run and jump and spin through the moor – but those times were long over and now only thoughts of death and victory loomed over him. He was sure he was going to die on this battlefield and he accepted it.

_Yet, we co-exist without fail. A vibrant rainbow of colors, none black and none white. We fight, we love and we survive. That is our way of coping, our way of living. _He thought back to the garden, the sweet fragrance of the different rows of colorful flowers, growing wild and free. He thought of the reds, yellows and blues that laced the brown of the trees. He thought of the luscious greens of the grass and leaves.

_Beautiful, lively… glorious color. _Suddenly, she appeared. Her hair tied into a delicate knot atop her head, braided in certain sections while the short hair by her hairline elegantly framed her red-cheeked face. She spun, her light blue dress swirled against her slender legs, dipping and billowing as it reflected the sun's rays. She laughed, a twinkling angelic sound escaping her lips and warming his freezing body. She called out to him. Her hands stretched toward him as she danced through the garden, blending into the plantage and wildlife perfectly – a goddess of all that was good and rich.

Mary.

She was so close, but he couldn't reach her. His body too damaged, too sore, to do the simple act of reaching out and grabbing onto that god-blessed hand that invited him. He wanted to, from the heavens above to hell's fires below did he want to, but he physically couldn't lift his own hand.

"Soldier! Soldier Sowerby!" Someone dully called, their dim voice shot an arrow though the image, a flaming arrow burned through the image and the wind carried away it's ashes. He wanted to scream, he wanted to call her name. He wanted to find the bastard who shot that arrow and gut him like the fishermen at his village gutted their fish – a thought that scared him to the core.

He slowly turned his head and with glazed, blurred eyes he saw young Colin army crawl towards him. His dirty cheeks were stripped with tears as he hurriedly tossed his slender body over his own, calling him.

Behind him was a red sky, men rushing by armored heavily with their guns heaved over their shoulders. Their bodies leaving behind blurring lines and clouds of dirt.

He wasn't in the garden with his beloved. He was on a battlefield, 3 bullets in his leg and another on his hip; bleeding to death. And Colin had found him; the boy just couldn't let Dickon die with the image of Mary in his mind.

The younger boy roughly grabbed onto his collar and screamed; his mouth moving rapidly as he shouted reassurances. "Dickon! Dickon! Hang in there! We- You'll make it through! Stay with us Sowerby! Don't you dare die! You'll make it thr-" His dim voice faded away and all Dickon could understand was that his rapidly moving lips were continuously shouting reassurances and prayers.

Colin.

It's been a while since he thought of the frail boy at home. Dickon remembered how jealous he was that he had been called because he was poor while as Colin could live comfortably due to his wealth – He wanted to smack himself for thinking so selfishly. This war was no place for a man like Colin. He's body wouldn't handle it and he'd die as soon as he stepped foot in the trenches. The soldiers were rowdy and some were simply horrid. Dickon thanked the heavens and gods above for protecting his cherished friend from such a fate.

He wanted to see them. He wanted to hold them close and never let go again. He wanted to be home at the moor, the war done and over – lives sparred and peace once again.

With a grim smile Dickon idly felt his lips move, forming words that went unheard to him as his mind faded away to a black abyss. "Colin, Mary, I'll see you in the garden."

He wasn't ready to die just yet.

* * *

Mary sighed deeply as she stepped out of the cart. She nodded towards Frank, a sharp motion of lifting chin and bringing it down. "Please, I'll retrieve my own bags." She said, her eyes looking up at the elder man with a light shine. She didn't wait for his response.

Without another word she went to the trunk of the cart, opening the small compartment and collecting her bags into her arms, with frail limbs she elbowed the compartment door shut and retreated towards the manor. "Thank you for the ride, Frank." She called over her shoulder as she entered the large building. Maids hustled around her, asking to take her bags and if she had enjoyed her trip, others – the more nosy ones – pondered on why she returned so quickly and if anything exciting happened during her travels.

She ignored them though. Quickly walking up the stairs, 2 at a time, and nearly running down the maze-like hallways. She didn't care about the well-dressed man she nearly bowled over in the hall away or wondered over who that strange man was. She simply ran. Her dress swaying and furling about her as she did so.

Finally reaching her door, she grabbed the knob and yanked the wooden door open. She quickly dropped her bags on her bed before rushing back to shut her door with a resounding slam.

She sighed deeply once again as she sat at her desk. Her eyes dully gazed at the drawings of roses and flowers that littered the desks surface. The German shuttle was a harsh reminder of the war, of the men who were out there fighting with their lives on the line – of the man she had come to love.

Unconsciously, she plucked a quill from her desk and dipped it into the small bowl of ink. She pulled out another parchment and began to draw. Her slender fingers grasped the handle of the quill delicately as she drew black lines across the rough surface of the parchment.

She worked in silence, her mind a million miles away as her hand ran across the sheet of white, curving and straightening, darkening and lightening. Her nimble fingers worked long and hard until finally a proper image was presented.

A sharp knock broke her away from her musing. She turned around sharply. The quill gracefully lifted off the surface and was held tightly in her palm, its ink dripped onto the desk.

"Who's there? I'd rather not be interrupted!" She called to the door. Swiping at a strange chill on her cheek before realizing that the liquid was tears. Her eyes widened as she quickly glanced at her work, gasping at the figure showing.

Dickon.

Dickon's bright whole-some smile was smiling up at her as his wide eyes were crinkled with joy, his unruly hair stood at odd places as roses surrounded him. The image broke through her heart as she glanced towards the last of the roses that was gifted to her, only 6 of the 11 remained – the twelfth had yet to be found.

The door opened and shut behind her, drawing her attention, but not enough for her to turn around. "I said that I didn't wish to be disturbed, leave now." She demanded, her voice taking up a more royal tone as she reached forward and gently – barely touching – stroked the soft petals of the remaining roses.

"Is that any way to greet your cousin, Miss Lennox?" A familiar deep rotted voice sounded from behind her. The voice alone caused a freezing chill to sweep through her body.

Colin, no, not now. I'm too vulnerable. I can't handle him right now.

She breathed in deeply, and released before calmly discarding her quill and rising from her seat. She patted her skirt before turning towards her cousin, a determined, walled up look in her honey eyes.

"Colin, welcome back. I trust your travels have been well." She commented, her voice neutral, nearly emotionless as she grabbed hold of her lady-etiquette that was shoved down her throat in school.

Colin scrunched his face as though he'd smelt something foul before throwing his body across her body – his manner as carefree as it had been before their blow out.

"Argh, tiring! I've managed to go through with business deals here and there, but its excruciating hard now with that war going on. It's foolish really, those men out on that field dying for what really? A medal of some sort? A trophy? Do they have any idea how bad this is for business? We should have invested in weaponry instead of plantage and what not." He murmured.

His words were the last push over the cliff. She couldn't stop the tears that ran or the anger that flowed.

"_How dare you?_" She snarled, her voice taking on a new low point. As her disappointment and anger radiated heat waves from her body. Her brow furrowed as her eyes grew blood shot. If looks could kill – Colin would already have died 4 times and be buried 30 feet underground, his corpse th feast of maggots and other creatures.

Colin rolled over and flinched back from her intensity. "Mary?"

She stepped forward, her hands furling into tight fists by her side as her spine straightened – looking like the angel of death.

"How dare you insult those men? How dare you dirty their hardships with your filthy selfish words. Your business can go into shambles and leave you penniless while as those men will always have Honor and Self-worth for protecting their country and their loved ones. You know nothing of hardship, you know nothing of death. You vile, sickening, selfish _bastard_. Leave my chambers at once before I make you do so."

Again, her voice readopted her story-like, mystical tone that had the blonde man shivering and listening with undivided attention. "M-Mary? What's wrong? I don't understand.

She chuckled unemotionally. "Of course you wouldn't understand, you ignorant cockroach. You who have been shielded and feared all your life. You wouldn't know anything about death, only the thought and faint memory." With jagged steps she approached her door and yanked it open. She presented the empty door war with a wave of her arm. "Leave, _Colin_."

And he did. Confused and dazed.

* * *

"I don't understand what I did wrong?!" Colin shouted as he paced back and forth in his private library, his two good friends sat in his 2 one-seated sofas and sipped freshly brewed tea. Their eyes following the confused man pacing in front of them. "One moment I'm telling her a little about the trip and my view on the war and the next she turns into an angered Indian story-teller, telling me I know nothing of hardships! She knows I hadn't been able to walk until I was 10 years old – I probably would have died on that blasted bed! What does she know?! That woman is infuriating!" He huffed as he threw himself onto his larger sofa, back first, and covered his eyes with his arms. I just can't win with that woman!"

Mr. Howard snorted as he placed his cup back onto the small plate that sat comfortably on a little round table. He stretched his limbs as he stood up, walking towards the massive bookcase and read through the different titles. "Well, it all depends really." He commented as a certain book caught his interest and he pulled it out to read its content. "What did you say about the war?"

"Yeah, Colin!" Mr. Dawn exclaimed, using his first name as a means to calm his friend down. "I know you said that there haven't been any servants disappearing because of the war, but you have been gone for a while, perhaps a friend of hers has been shipped away."

Colin tensed as his mind reeled. _No…_

There was a moment of silence before he bolted into an upright position. He flung his legs off the sofa and scrambled towards the door, ignoring his friend calling to him. He yanked the door open with a wild look in his eye, startling a poor maiden who was cradling a basket of linen.

"You!" He exclaimed as he took long strides to look down at the petite, frightened woman. "Do you know where Dickon is?" He asked harshly, knowing that everyone in Mizzeltwaite knew Dickon – the friendly chap that he is has helped many animals and people alike and has gotten quite the reputation.

The woman's eyes grew mournful as she shook her head in disbelief, his own worry growing as a knowing feeling nagged on him.

"S-sir," Her voice timid as she clutched tightly onto the basket, she must've had a strong English heritage fore there was a very little of the local accent in her manner of speech. "Dickon Sowerby had been called into war months ago." She said with a quiver in her voice. "The mis-mistress had been very depressed 'til the point of falling ill. We all thought you knew and traveled to get away from the heaviness and grief in our hearts."

Colin's breathing stopped, his body tensed like stone as his eyes turned as cold as the icy depths of the alps. He shook his head as he backed away.

"No… no, Dickon is here. He couldn't be called into w-w-w-" He daren't say it. A cold shock went through his body, his actions and Mary's reactions all coming together. A puzzle finally been solved. Mary was in great pain due to the loss of their childhood friend.

And he felt that pain and understood it completely.

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: *Drum roll* And the Ownership for The Secret Garden goes to Soaring Ke-*Ahem, cough cough* Oh, my… well, this is embarrassing, there seems to have been a misunderstanding. Miss Soaring Keys has never and will never own the beautiful novel, The Secret Garden. That privilege belongs to only Frances Hudgson Burnett… **_**My Bad.**_

**AN/ ***sigh* What a let down, stupid announcer dude getting my hopes up and shooting them down… *pouts*

Anyways, super sorry for the late update, your reviews and suggestions warm my heart and really help get this story running. I'd like to apologize to HalloweenSpell for not responding until now. Your suggestion about her falling in love with Colin is a very entertaining story, but it's not really what I've had in mind. Though don't worry – there's still plenty of chapters left and I'll do everything in my power to entertain you all with the best of my abilities. Oh, and Sassyk100 – You warm my heart and I just wanna cuddle you! Thank you so much!

Last chapter I had said I am no good with romance – I'm really not. But for this chapter I tried amping up my game and just laying on some romantic angst. It was hard and, I won't lie, I scraped this chapter many many many times. Starting over and over and over again. But I got my mojo back and I couldn't stop writing. I hope you all enjoyed the chapter!

**_Plotbunnies are tired – give them a review for their hard work._**


	11. Invader

**Chapter 11**

**"Invader."**

Mary strolled through the gardens of the manor, not her own. She smiled at the blooming flowers that stood orderly in neat rows. She waved at a nearby gardener who shot her a large grin and a jolly "Top of t'morning to ye, missus!"

As she scanned the rows of finely weeded flowers and nicely trimmed brushes, she pondered over her predicament. Many more young men had been sent to war in the village, as said in Martha's letters. She feared for her younger brother, who was at the ripe age of 15. According to her he wished to join willingly and search for Dickon himself. It's his mother's crying and pleading that has stilled his actions, but for how long she has yet to know.

Mary sighed as she perched herself on a white stone bench, polished to perfection in this organized garden, just like the rest.

Such agony and torment is continuing in the village, other younger boys wanting to do their part in the war, for various reasons. Money, fame and righteous beliefs, it's your pick. And here she was, hiding from maids eager for her opinion on preparations for a ball.

She didn't want to be here, she wanted to be in the village quelling their worries and helping them in any way she can. But how? They wouldn't accept her help. Like the Sowerbys', Mizzeltwaithe was a proud and loving area and the people in it work for their own daily bread and sort their own problems. Martha wouldn't dare ask for help, nor would she accept any grand gesture.

"Argh!" Mary groaned, an action that would have Mrs. Medlock pulling out her hair and grinding her teeth, as she tossed her head back and supported her weight with her arms, grabbing hold of the edge of the stone bench. She lifted her legs and crossed them on the seat, not caring that she creased the fabric of her dress or of the oddity such a pose was. "Too damn, proud for their own good, they are?"

"I do hope you are not speaking of us now, Miss Lennox." A deep voice resonated from beside her, startling her right off the bench.

"Damn." She cursed as she rubbed her sore hip, the victim of her fall. Grimacing as she prodded the fleshy area. "That will bruise come morning." She muttered as she stood patting her dress.

"I do apologize for startling you, Miss Lennox." The voice sounded again. Mary glared at the invader of her privacy, her eyes narrowing as she straightened her spine.

The man was taller than her and was finely dressed – most definitely a friend of Colin's. His dark long hair was combed back and tied by a thin dark ribbon as his stunning green-eyes gazed at her with amusement, his lips curled at the ends in a smirk.

"Oh, I am sure you are." She near-snarled as she stared-him down. She wasn't sure on whether he was a kind man or not, but seeing as he was friends with Colin and of a higher stature she assumed he was pompous. Though she didn't normally judge someone by their cover; the "gentlemen" she had already met in London had set a standard on all "gentlemen" in her eyes.

In Mary's opinion, they needed to be knocked down a peg or two. "And stop addressing me as Miss Lennox. If you must address me at all then simply call me Mary. Though I do hope you plan on introducing yourself soon before I make a little nick-name for you."

The man raised an eyebrow, the amusement in his eyes growing with a hint of mischief. "A nick-name you say? Do you do this often to others who you know not the name of?" His voice was coy as he knotted his hands behind his back.

"Well, if I know not the name then it leaves me no other choice but to come up with one. I would rather call them something rather than nothing at all." Her reply was sharp as she allowed a grin to cross her features, deciding that this was an interesting game to play, maybe her judgment was wrong this time.

"That is quite a logic, you have, Miss Le-" A sharp glare from Mary had him turning his tongue. "Mary." He corrected. He cocked his head to the side as he pursed his lips in thought. "But pray tell, what nick-name would you give me? Surely you must've thought one up by now."

"Invader." She answered without hesitance. Her grin unwavering as she sharpened her gaze.

Startled by her response his eyes widened as he stepped back. His mouth opening and closing at a loss for words before eventually forming the question: "And why would you address me as an _invader_?" the word was suddenly foreign on his tongue, she noticed.

Mary giggled as she sat herself back onto the bench, crossing her ankles as she leaned back on her arms again. "Well," she began her eyes moving from him to the midday sun. "you invaded my privacy as I was deep within my thought_, sir Invader_." She teased. "I will have a bruise by the next early morning due to your interruption, but I suppose I can't blame you wholly for my bout of clumsiness."

The man chuckled, a deep throated sound that sounded pleasant in Mary's ears – though it brought memories of another laughter that would bring a smile to any who hears, a much lighter and louder laughter that was usually followed by a low whistle and a kind comment.

"I am tempted to never inform you of my name, but I fear such an unfortunate name could cause many misunderstandings in the ears of an outsider."

Mary snorted, another unlady-like gesture that would send poor Mrs. Medlock into extreme seizures and an early grave.

"I care not for outside ears. If I know not the name then I shall give them another, _dear_ Invader." She taunted her grin widening.

"Darwin Howard."

Mary nodded as she turned her eyes back towards the expectant man, her eyes boldly met his. "Darwin Howard." She repeating, allowing the name of the strange man to roll off her tongue. She shrugged as she turned her gaze back towards the burning ball in the sky. "I do believe I prefer Invader."

Darwin Howard chuckled again. "In that case." He boldly sat himself on the bench and leaned back the same way Mary did. "I shall invade your privacy some more with my presence."

"Lord, help me." She jokingly said glancing fully at the clouds above her head.

"What was plaguing your thoughts before I _invaded_?" He asked.

Mary raised her eyebrow at him. "My, you seem to be getting bolder as our conversation wears on."

"I know." He replied, bewildered over this himself as he tugged at a sleeve – a nervous habit, she would assume. "I do believe this is the longest I've spoken in quite a while."

Mary pursed her lips as she nodded, watching with slight interest as he tried to work out his reasoning.

"I was thinking of what to do." She replied to his previous wondering with a shrug, dragging him out of his inner debate. "This war has taken my close friend and many others from the village and towns." She said her gaze hardening. "Our younger boys want to join as well and I want to help them – I want to stop the youth from foolishly throwing away their lives for the war. I wish to somehow help them to do good in the world without the need of a gun and black powder." She sighed as she clutched the skirt of her dress. "I just don't know how."

Mr. Howard was silent as he listened to her, nodding every now and then as he gazed at the young, passionate woman next to him. He was about to answer when she sighed and continued: "And here I am awaiting a ball."

"Then why not use it to your advantage?" He pondered as he straightened his spine and tugged at his sleeve.

Her eyes snapped towards him, her head whipping her hair around her until it settled down her back, a few blew in her face due to the wind. "What do you mean? Use the ball to my advantage? How can I do that?"

Darwin watched her wide eyed, which didn't defuse Mary who eagerly leaned towards him. She bit her lip with wide-eye anticipation. "Well, come on! Do elaborate!"

Howard swallowed thickly as he scooted down the bench. He licked his lips, wetting them before speaking again. "Contacts." He stated simply, clearing his men as he adjusted himself to his new seating. "Colin has invited many men of high status. By speaking and discussing your worries you could change many opinions and even raise security levels. They set the age limit at 18, but I am aware that many other younger than that have been infiltrating the war. With a bit of a silver tongue you can convince them to raise their standard on men. I could introduce you to some of the more controlling, if you'd like."

Mary gasped as she suddenly leapt from her seat her hands clasped as she smiled. "Perfect! Contacts! I never thought of that! Perhaps I can even convince them to better their village's standards!" She bit her lip as she gazed up at the sky with childish glee, momentarily forgetting the man sitting on the bench gazing at her with star struck eyes. "I'll do something to contribute as well, Dickon!" She shouted as a raven flew through the sky. "So you be sure to come home!"

* * *

"Colin! Colin!" Mr. Dawn shouted as he waved his hand in front of his friend´s dazed face. He giggled as he snapped his fingers, making sure that the cracking sound created was louder than usual. "You´ll never guess what I just saw!"

Colin remained unmoved. His eyes glazed as he stared at the thousands of books that lined his walls. If it weren´t for his clenching fists on his lap some would´ve thought he was a statue.

Mr. Dawn sighed heavily as he perched himself on the windowsill beside the armchair his friend sat in. "It´s a shame really." He said as he examined his nails, now ignoring the fact that his friend was deeply lost in thought. "If only I had followed him out, perhaps I would be the one flirting with your lovely cou-"

"What?"

A sudden hand grabbed onto Mr. Dawns thigh and he shrieked in surprise, his back hitting the window behind him as he attempted to calm his breathing. "Christ, Colin! Give a man a heart attack, who don´t-"

"What did you say? About my cousin?" Colin interrupted as he stood up from his armchair, his once empty eyes now ignited with a fire Mr. Dawn couldn´t quite place.

"J-just that Darwin Howard is out in the gardens with her. I saw them through the window." He said as he shrunk away from Colin´s tall, intimidating form. He was already a short man as is. "Over there." He pointed towards the pair's direction.

Colin breathed deeply through his nose as he unlatched the window and pushed it open. The sudden breeze and smell of the moor awakened his numb senses slightly. Mr. Dawn was grateful for the soft breeze as it chilled the tense atmosphere and relaxed his school friend.

He leaned over slightly as he searched for the area he had last seen the pair. He saw a beautiful female leap from her seat with her arms extended with excitement. "There. I do believe that is you cousin we would be meeting tonight." He pointed towards the twirling female as she appeared to be shouting something to the heavens.

He could see Colin´s eyes zoom onto her slight form, a small smile spread across his face as he watched his cousin´s antics. Mr. Dawn couldn´t help but raise an eyebrow. Why, he´d dare say that Colin was infatuated with the lovely lady. A wedding between the 2 wouldn´t be uncommon, not to mention they would be quite the handsome pair.

A shot of pain surrounding his thigh broke Mr. Dawn out of his musings with a gasp. His eyes locked onto his old friend with accusation only to see his brow furrowed, his upper lip twitching and a green lit in his gray eyes.

"Colin?" He asked in a gasp as he followed the blonde man´s line of sight, latching onto the pair standing in the garden.

Mr. Howard stood with the Lady Lennox conversing quite freely as it seems. He had his arms crossed behind his back as he nodded to the lady´s words as she gestured wildly in excitement. Her bust leaning towards him as her back dipped slightly. Mr. Dawn wasn´t sure if she was doing so unconsciously or on purpose.

"That bastard." Colin as his hand tightened, causing great distress on the shorter man beside him whose thigh he grasped.

"Yes, yes, That Darwin Howard is a right bastard." He gasped as he tried to pry his friend´s fingers away from his bruising appendage. "No need to harm the messenger though."

Colin´s eyes widened as he quickly released the man´s thigh. His hand retreating into his pocket as the other supported him against the windowsill. "Sorry." He murmured as he aimed his sights downward.

"No, it´s quite alright." Mr. Dawn forgave as he rubbed at his leg with a slight pout. "That was quite the right hand grip, I may say. One too many lonely nights in the manor?" He teased with a wink.

Colin scoffed as he turned his back towards the window, his eyes now locked on the long rows of shelves wielding countless of books. "You ask from experience?" He teased back through gritted teeth. His shoulders were hunched with tension.

Mr. Dawn gave him a sympatric smile before that quickly morphed into one of mischief. " Oh, no, my good chap! These fingers are much too delicate you see." He said as he held out his long, thin fingers and slender palm. "If I ever have any sort of craving, I simply search a pretty maiden that works in our home."

Colin chuckled as his shoulders relaxed slightly, glancing towards his friend though his blonde bangs. "How vile, do you know where they have been?"

Mr. Dawn shrugged as he hopped off the windowsill, landing perfectly on the soles of his feet. "I only take the fresh ones, dear boy!"

"I see…" Colin muttered before straightening his posture. "Come, we must get ready for tonight's dinner. The cooks have prepared quite the feast tonight in honor of my friends."

"How kind of them. Due refrain from gripping my thigh though, I am quite aware I am irresistible, sin be damned." He winked before ducking from swing the blonde shot out.

"Oi!"

* * *

He breathed heavily. His senses filling with the smell of gunpowder, smoke and rot. His mind was fogging. His memories, the ones he had fought so hard to hang onto were slipping from his brain like water through a drain. He could see images of faces without names, scorching up in the wild fire that was his psyche.

He wanted to scream at the flames to stop when he saw the image of a plump woman surrounded by several children turned to ash. He wanted to cry when he saw a group of huddled animals, good and kind animals, become dust in the strong torrents of wind.

But his heart broke when he saw the portrait of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, sitting daintly on a swing surrounded by roses and greenery, burst into flames. Slowly around the corners it crept until it finally consumed her precious face.

Tears were pouring out of his eyes and dripping off his chin as he stared at the piles of ashes within his mind. Who he was, where he was from and what he had done was wiped away. What will become of him? Will all that remains be an empty shell?

"-on." A voice, a young male´s by the sound of it. "Dick-" There it was again. Who was he calling? Why did he sound so familiar. "Dickon!" It´s shout echoed off the red walls.

"Dickon Sowerby!"

* * *

**DISCLAIMER: I sincerely own nothing other than my fangirl heart. **

**AN/** I apologize for the long wait. I do this, I stress over a bunch of other stuff... then I get this amazing review that fuels me to continue. Really... Thank you so much for all of your support and commentery. I do indeed read them and I´m touched by them every time.

Again, I am not a romantic writer. I´ve recently discovered I have a knack for horror stories... Though I despise Horror Films... Do not ask me why, because I have no idea myself. Anywho, I apologize for the lack of fluff. I try to interpret it anyway I can and I feel like I´m kinda just not doing so... F**k.

Review for more ;)


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